Reborn from the Ruins of Lost Love
by exquisitedreamer
Summary: Hermione disappeared for three years after their graduation. When she comes back, a series of events are triggered, events that are meant to form a new legacy. But will they have time before the Final Battle to sort it all out? Slight AU
1. Disclaimer and InDepth Summary

**Reborn from the Ruins of Lost Love**

By ExquisiteDreamer

Disclaimer

I, Tiffany Yuan, do not lay claim to anything in the Potter World. However, some characters that you do not recognize from the revered J.K. Rowling's books are my creations and I shall be sure to note that in my Author's Notes section of each chapter. Just for the record, this disclaimer applies to this entire story and I will not be writing this over and over for each chapter.

Detailed Summary

An unlikely romance unfolds in the age old corridors of Hogwarts in the Famous Trio's last year. Even though friends start to accept it as the inevitable, the couple must overcome centuries of prejudices in order for their relationship to blossom. However, Fate works against their plan and one's stubbornness and the other's pride cause their frail bond to shatter. Now, three years have passed, and neither has seen each other since the day they broke up. What if unlikely circumstances drew the two back together? What old memories and lies would be brought back at the resurfacing of their relationship? AU DHr


	2. Chapter 1: Reminisce

Hermione rolled over and sighed as the early morning rays of sunshine shone gently on her face. Stretching and yawning, she groaned and buried her head into the soft fluffy pillow at her side. Peering sideways at her little clock, she groaned again in annoyance to see that the digital numbers read 7:00 a.m.

Stretching once more, twenty-year old Hermione snuggled in the still-warm covers of her bed and stared up at the soft folds of the lavender canopy above her. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the light streaming in through her window. As she moved her hand slightly, she felt something furry next to her and saw an orange ball of fluff. Laughing to herself, Hermione reluctantly twitched aside her already-knocked-askew covers.

"Hey Crookshanks," she said in a light voice.

Crookshanks yowled in complaint as she woke her orange cat up by stroking him behind his ears. She laughed as he jumped off of his spot on her bed and slunk off to find a spot where he wouldn't be disturbed.

Half an hour later, Hermione emerged from her room dressed and awake. She wore a stylish golden blazer over a soft white v-necked shirt and a matching suit skirt that hugged her thighs. Slipping into a pair of classy gold patent leather high heeled sandals, she headed towards the kitchen of her flat.

Making a comfortable living as a business woman in the wizarding world, she could afford to have a stylish flat decked out in classy furniture. However, as the years had slowly passed by, the meaning in the items that had consisted of her childhood dream home had faded to nearly nothing. The war that visibly raged in the wizarding world was something she could not ignore. Nor was the absence of all of her friends – people whom she had abruptly cut off contact with three years ago to date.

Humming to herself, Hermione brushed aside her darker thoughts and strode into her small flat's light-filled kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. Sitting down at the small glass table, she sang the words to an old Scottish ballad under her breath as she stirred in the cream and sugar, watching the dark liquid pool with whiteness and slowly dissolve into a chocolate brown color.

_Where tropic skies are beaming,_

_Love sets the heart a-dreaming,_

_Longing and dreaming…_

Rapping sounds at the side kitchen window pulled the young woman out of her reverie. Sighing, she placed the warm mug down on the table and got up to let in a tawny owl. Cocking its head slightly, the owl fluttered its wings and waited on the counter as Hermione gently unfastened two letters and a newspaper from its outstretched talon. Nodding almost imperceptibly, she turned around and placed the letters next to her mug. The owl, seeing that its job was done, soared off into the morning light.

Closing the window so that the late autumn winds could not bother her, she unfurled the _Daily Prophet, _a newspaper her boss had demanded her to apply for a full-year subscription for, and saw that there was nothing of interest in the black and white print that had been the cause of many aggravating incidents during her school years. Her attention was drawn towards the two letters. One was written on heavy parchment with an elaborate seal. Picking it up, Hermione took out a small silver blade and slit it, unrolling the small length of parchment.

_Dear Miss Hermione Granger,_

_We of the Wizarding Research Foundation for Incurable Magical Maladies would like you to organize a charity ball in order to raise Galleons to fund our current research for the cure to lycanthropy. We believe that you have the skills to put together a nighttime extravaganza that will attract many donors to our cause with use of your skills in the business world._

_Please keep in mind that if you decide to accept this offer, we can, and will, award you for your time. Since we cannot award you in financial means due to our diminishing funds, we are more than willing to name you as the Head of our Fundraising Committee. _

_Please owl us your reply as soon as possible and we will provide you with instructions and coordinates to where you may Apparate to for your first coordinative meeting._

_Thank you,_

_Ducis Dux_

_Head of the Wizarding Research Foundation for Incurable Magical Maladies_

Hermione laughed after finishing the letter. The venerable organization had most subtly hinted at her skills at manipulation. Even though she had been sorted into Gryffindor while attending Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, it was generally supposed that she was keen and sly enough at times to manipulate others into doing what she wanted.

However, whatever talent she had in such a shady field was usually overshadowed by one thing – her unwillingness to exercise it. Perhaps Ducis wanted her to garner more than donation money, things such as high-ranking affiliations and wealthy sponsors.

Hermione then frowned to herself, brow furrowed as she pondered over a different note. Taking on the job of organizing a gala to raise money for lycanthropy was certainly a worthy cause, but did she have the time to spare? Work hours for her were often long and irregular, but weekends were still relatively free. Sighing, she picked up her mug and sipped the caffeinated drink as she sifted though her options.

So far, things at her company were relatively calm with the recent number of projects that had been slated for launch earlier that month. Actually organizing a gala would take more time than one average witch or wizard had in store, so the Foundation would most probably assign her a partner.

Despite that, she would still have to devote most of her time to arranging every meticulous detail that was required – no, _commanded_ – in a situation like this. Charity balls were often frequented by those higher up in society who were nearly notorious for their constant companion, scrutiny, and their ability to make an event crumble into ash or flourish like a flower in full bloom.

Then a thought struck her with a force that, had she been able to, she would have mentally gasped in shock with the impact. Remus – the man they had all adored and idolized in their fourth year as a Defense Against Dark Arts teacher – was also a werewolf. Hadn't she seen his tattered robes and graying hair? Hadn't she felt that familiar pang of sorrow as she, Ron, and Harry noted how he sunk deeper into the relentless waves of pain, how much farther he left them stranded on the shore each day? That day he had taught them to face their fears, no matter how childish it may have been, Remus had lit a fire within her.

She and Harry hadn't truly faced the Boggart that day, but his lesson and its underlying implications had somehow clashed in her heart to make a spark. It was that bit of fire that had been ignited in her seventh year, the same one that had helped her rise in the ranks of the WWIA agents. She owed too much to the man to let him fall farther from their grasps

Finally, her mind made up, she picked up a quill and a fresh sheet of parchment from the center pile on the table. Dipping the eagle feather in ink and setting it on the blank piece she bit her tongue and began to write.

_Dear Head of the Wizarding Research Foundation for Incurable Magical Maladies,_

She stopped for a moment, critically eyeing the unattractive title. She didn't like the way it spanned the parchment, signifying an overly embellished ego of the bearer.

"_Evanesco!_"she muttered. The parchment disappeared. Grabbing another clean sheet, she started again.

_Dear Wizard Dux,_

_I am more than willing to accept the job of coordinating this charity ball. However, my work schedule does not allow much free time and is only lenient on weekends. If I am to organize this event, I will have to ask you to schedule our first meeting on a weekend._

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger_

Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was already 7:46 a.m. She only had fourteen minutes until she had to Apparate to work. Walking towards a small side-room that served as her Owlery, she carefully rolled up the parchment and opted for a simple Sticking Charm instead of a formal seal.

In the small area, sunlight filtered in through narrow windows, illuminating floating specks of dust that swirled and danced whenever the air was disturbed. Along the far wall were three wooden perches, worn down by constant use. Upon each of the gnarled stands were three owls.

Although she'd never admit it, Artemis, the oldest of all three, was her favorite. She had been a birthday present from Harry in their seventh year at Hogwarts and had been her first wizarding pet. Artemis had gotten her name from a distinctive arrow-like marking on her forehead. Harry had often joked that Artemis had been a Dark Lord slayer in her past life.

"Artemis, take this to a wizard named Ducis Dux," commanded Hermione. "I don't know where he is, but he may be at the building near Godric's Hollow called the Research Center for Incurable Magical Maladies."

The owl gave a small hoot of assent and flew out the window Hermione had opened for her. Shutting the small trap door firmly, she went back to her coffee. Digging around the refrigerator, she grabbed a small plastic cup of yogurt and turned around to find a spoon. Fishing through the drawer of silverware, the girl saw a small glint of gold in the far corner.

Setting her yogurt and spoon on the counter, she stretched out her long, slender fingers and tried to get the mysterious object. Her efforts were not in vain and Hermione soon pulled out a fine silver chain with a small golden pendant. The gold was warm in her hands – Goblin made – and the pendant was made in the shape of a small bird - a phoenix.

**_Flashbacks_**

_**Thought Fragments**_

_She could remember it clearly – but then again, not so. To recall such memories took time and effort, but then again she never truly called upon them. She had locked them away years ago and abandoned the folly many considered to be quite the opposite._

_To say it began that day she noticed it would be wrong. No, a far more analytical part of her mind deduced that it had begun long before she was aware of its existence. Like a small bud left to fend for itself, that _thing_ had been left to tend for itself and had grown to be one of the most bittersweet flowers, streaked with beauty, but stained with years of neglect and the oddity of Fate._

_It had started with stolen glances during classes and between meals and at school functions. They were rare and fleeting as a playful breeze that comes and goes at will. A glimpse of white sunbeams that fluttered slightly with every move, and deep pools of silvery grey that caught and trapped light with a gentle gaze. _

_Strangely enough, she was captured as well, being drawn into his alluring eyes as helplessly as the light. Every stolen gaze and fleeting smile became her obsession to realize, marvel, and savor. It was her hidden secret, something that she could revel in to her own joy without Harry or Ron's intrusion. _

_The two boys that had been at her side were truly nothing less than remarkable. However, she was caught in a new game now, one that extended past her usual world and made the war against Voldemort nonexistent for several blissful moments._

_Each brush of the shoulders, each light jostle of elbows or schoolbooks was carefully tucked away in her mind. It soon became a bastion in which she sought solace with a young man with the mysteriousness and unforgettable beauty of the moon locked away in his masked eyes._

_To tell the truth, they spoke little to one another, but words were never truly needed. Everything lay in each hidden gesture that both sides fiercely fought to decode and understand as soon as it unfolded. It was a game at first. _

_Before they realized what more it had become._

_**Memory**_

"_Hermione!" called Harry. "Come on, or else we'll be late for Herbology!"_

_It was obviously her seventh year; already she had fully matured into a young woman with shapely curves, easily discerned, even under the bulky Hogwarts school robes. Her hair was no longer bushy, but pooled in silky waves past her shoulders. _

_Under her dark robes was an imperfect white shirt with hung on her frame with an air of elegance, softly adjusting itself to accent her fluid movements. An emerald green skirt hugged her smooth thighs, coming just halfway between her hip and knee – not long enough for Professor McGonagall's complete approval, but certainly longer than what most girls were wearing._

"_I'm coming, I'm coming!" she laughed, descending the stairs of the Gryffindor girl's dormitory._

_Coming to a halt at the bottom of the staircase, she saw Harry standing alone, one fist tightly curled around something, as if he were trying to shield it from the world. Raising an auburn eyebrow, Hermione's chocolate brown eyes danced with curiosity._

"_I-I-I wanted to give you something," stuttered the poor Gryffindor boy. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, and yet he was clearly afraid of confrontations like these; thinking of his first date would make one collapse in tears of laughter. "Er…_I_ had it made for you last time I went to Diagon Alley." _

_A sweaty palm opened up to reveal a stunning silver chain, finely made by careful and skilled hands. There was no pendant however, even though it seemed to demand one. Harry looked beyond nervous as he waited for Hermione's reaction._

"_Why.. it's beautiful Harry!" she cried, hugging him. "Goblin made, no doubt."_

_Harry grinned, a rare flash of boyishness flitting across his face. "Of course you'd know," he said with more calm. _

_Unclasping the fine silver clasp, Hermione fastened the chain around her neck. Although it was plain, it was clear that it had cost quite a number of Galleons. It settled comfortably on her skin, glowing warmly and exuding a simple beauty. However, she was slightly suspicious. Why would Harry spend so much on a plain-seeming chain, when he was so clearly in love with Ginny? Jewelry was for girlfriends, not for your best friends even if you _had_ known them for nearly forever._

_Harry smiled mysteriously at her questioning look. "You'll find out later 'Mione. Let's just say that I had to do something huge for your birthday, but all I did was help someone."_

_Leaving her to ponder over his words, Harry left without another word. Hermione followed minutes later to go through the portrait hole. Going down the corridors of Hogwarts, she bumped into a platinum blonde boy._

_At first they backed away slightly and regarded one another with calculated gazes. Each one's heart hammered tightly in their chests – she knew it had to be. In her own ears, Hermione could hear the faint rush of blood as her heart pumped furiously when her mind slowly began to comprehend the length of time they had just been together._

_Long – longer than they'd ever been in each other's presence…_

_As her heart beat its wild tattoo, she tried to say something, but this meeting had not been planned. It had not been a part of their complex game, but instead it was a meeting by chance. Willing her leaden tongue to shape some coherent thought into words, she closed her eyes briefly._

_She opened them to find that Draco's stance had changed slightly, becoming a tad more inviting – or was it just her imagination? He was doing something, her mind registered; he was rummaging through his black messenger's bag in search of something._

_Shifting her gaze to his eye level, she was only mildly surprised to see him staring straight at him. So he had made the first move, perhaps this could be twisted back to fit in their game… But it had been so strongly rooted in its secrecy and subtlety –what would happened after this?_

"Accio Pendant!"_ he murmured suddenly, dashing away her thoughts. The thing he had been searching for flew into his palm and he placed in hesitantly into her instinctively opened hand. _

_It was a delicate pendant in the shape of a phoenix. Every flame was carefully emphasized in meticulous detail. It had cost him hundreds of Galleons, but as he had often told her, the look on her shocked face was priceless. Finally, when she was able to tear her eyes from the priceless object, she saw a satisfied smirk on Draco's face. _

"_Thank you," she breathed. All calculation was lost in the moment and she impulsively, she threw her school bag down and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a passionate kiss. At first his eyes widened with shock, but he melted against her curves and explored her peppermint mouth with practiced ease. After what seemed like an eternally blissful moment, they pulled apart, slightly disheveled but glowing with elation._

"_No, thank _you_, milady," Draco said teasingly and vanished without another word._

_Hermione grabbed her schoolbag with a sigh and ran after him, Herbology class forgotten._

_**End of Flashback**_

One translucent tear rolled down her soft cheek as she turned the beautiful pendant over and over in her hands. Their love, however, had worked against one another from the start. Her passion and his love had bloomed into a doomed relationship.

**Flashback**

_It was around Christmastime as a youthful Hermione Granger rounded a corner chatting with her two best friends – Harry Potter and Ron Weasly – and a good friend Ginny, cheeks flushed with excitement and happiness. From the side, the pretty flame-haired girl watched as her friend rambled on about Draco Malfoy._

_They had begun to accept that the two were in love, even if Ron had been more than slightly adamant in the beginning that the "Slytherin prat" was "up to no bloody good". Harry smiled good-naturedly as he watched with a slightly amused expression when Hermione didn't notice when someone had thrown a snowball right through the path they were taking._

_As the four tramped into the Great Hall, Ginny noticed a sign. Drawing her friends over, they read the notice._

_Attention All Sixth and Seventh Years!_

_We of the Faculty at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are proud to announce the First Annual Christmastime Gala!_

_All whom wish to attend this celebration of the Holiday of Giving must bring a date. Formal dress robes _are_ required, but must adhere to the school dress code. Please sign up with your Head of House if you would like to help set up for this wondrous event. Festivities will include a Holiday Feast (The normal Christmas Feast shall be held in the Common Rooms) and a special holiday visitor, as well as much more! _

_Ron made a strangled sound. "D'you reckon they're serious, mate?" He snorted in vague contempt. "The last ball they threw was in our fourth year, and you all know how that turned out."_

_Turning around, the gangly redhead saw two rapturous girls babbling on about the upcoming ball. Glancing nervously at Harry who still wore a bemused look on his face, he asked "You don't reckon that Lavender will want to go, do you?_

_Harry nodded slowly. "Lavender will probably want to go, mate. No, scratch that, she will be _dying_ to go. If you don't want to go, I wouldn't doubt that she'd find an escort for the night." Harry now wore a wicked grin. "And you wouldn't want that would you?"_

_Ron spluttered with indignance at the very suggestion. "Fine I'll go!" he said, ears burning a bright red._

_Harry chuckled at his friend's antics and gestured towards the girls. "They're always falling head-over-heels whenever these things come up. I guess it's a girl thing – like shopping."_

_However, their moment of happiness was disrupted by an odd encounter. This would be an encounter that would shape one of their lives for the next three years._

_A steely voice echoed through the nearly empty hall, "Granger!"._

_The laughing subsided as the cold voice rang in their ears. Ron looked at the approaching Slytherin with his usual apprehension. Ginny clung to Harry who stared back at the pale youth who was approaching them. However, he only had eyes for Hermione._

"_D-D-D-Draco?" she stuttered. "What's w-w-wrong?"_

"_You," he sneered in a voice laden with malice and hatred. "You - you filthy mudblood! Father was right to say that about you, how you were less than the filth that stains our feet. You're simply a vixen that trapped me in your maze of lies so that you could use me for your demented schemes."_

_Hermione looked at Draco, shocked. Taken aback at his coldness, she retaliated as she had been prone to do years before. "What's with you, Malfoy?" She spat out his name like a vile poison._

_Looking slightly shocked at her instant anger, Draco stopped for a second, but plowed on nonetheless. "You shattered my heart today, and the day you bewitched me. I'm lucky that my friends told me about your deception or else I'd still be hanging over you like a lovesick puppy that was overdosed with a love potion."_

_Spinning on his heel, he marched away, feeling as if someone had stamped on his heart and smashed all of his emotions. Blocking out all sounds of Hermione's muffled sobs, he managed to shout out one last sentence that would sever all ties. "May you rest in never-ending chaos, Granger."_

_Hermione's emotions were overloaded and she felt a spinning sensation in her head as she accidentally bit her tongue – hard. Salty tears mixed in her mouth with the metallic taste of blood, mingling together on her tongue. Working through her tears, she managed to get out the dreaded words._

"_Then it's over, you... you… prat!"_

_The reality of it all came crashing down on the poor witch. Turning around to face her friend, she saw looks of sheer outrage and shock. Mumbling an excuse under her breath, she rushed past them in a flurry of tears and scarves. Practically sprinting, Hermione reached Gryffindor Tower in a record time. Even though her muffled cries attracted both curious and sympathetic onlookers, she ignored them all._

_When the seventeen year old witch finally got to her bed, she dropped onto the mattress in shock. She would never really understand what kind of damage her last four words caused her and Draco. "But," she thought in a sad voice. "I'll never get a chance to tell him anyway."_

**End of Flashback**

Hermione felt her surroundings change and shift as she gripped the kitchen counter, one hand clasped around the damned pendant. Her heart thundered loudly in her ears as she gasped for air. That had been no normal reminisce, it had been a vision of the past.

Sinking into her nearby chair, she knocked over her forgotten cup of coffee, and the cold brown liquid trickled freely onto the tiled flooring. Letting her head drop heavily into her hands, she cried.

She cried for the love that she had lost three years ago.

She cried for all the pain and heartbreak she had gone through.

She cried for the misunderstanding that had caused so much chaos.

And she cried because she could not have Draco Malfoy.

"Get up," said a small voice in the back of her head. "What's done is done."

Looking up blearily, Hermione's hand shook slightly as she placed the exquisite pendant on the table and slid it far away from her. Draco Malfoy was no longer a part of her. He may have taken a part of her heart, but she would live on without him.

"_Reparo,_" she muttered.

The pieces of ceramic flew back together. Hermione touched the now unblemished surface with a fingertip. "_If only love were that easy to fix." _she thought miserably. Shaking her head in despair, she tried to clear the images of a certain platinum blonde from her mind.

_As I look at the letters  
That you wrote to me  
It's you that I am thinking of  
As I read the lines  
That to me were so dear  
I remember our faded love _

__

I miss you darlin' more and more everyday  
As Heaven would miss the stars above  
With every heartbeat I still think of you  
And remember our faded love 

__

As I think of the past  
And all the pleasures we had  
As I watch the mating of the doves  
It was in the springtime  
That you said good-bye  
And I remember our faded love  


_  
I miss you darlin' more and more every day  
As Heaven would miss the stars above  
With every heartbeat I still think of you  
And remember our faded love _

__

And remember our faded love

_(A/N: Song lyrics by LeeAnn Rimes)_


	3. Chapter 2: Disturbing Revelations

Glancing at the clock, Hermione saw that she was an hour late for work. Sighing to herself, she propped her head up against her hands and massaged her temples. Dwelling on the past was useless, and she knew that perfectly well. But why couldn't she stop thinking of him?

A solitary tear made its way down her face, meandering in all different directions, lost on the wide expanse of peachy skin. The witch watched listlessly as the diamond-like tear fell onto the marble countertop. Shattering into smaller drops, the tear had been destroyed. Like her heart, flung carelessly aside to break into thousands of parts, unsure how to reunite as a whole.

Shaky fingers picked up the pendant that lay forgotten at the edge of the table. Fingering the intricate design, Hermione had a sudden urge to throw it away. Her last link to Draco. Her last reminder of their intricate dance that had occupied her thoughts when others prattled on about clothes or Quidditch. Her last memory of her unfulfilled promises.

"_No," _said a small voice in her head. _"Why do you want to hurt him so badly? Promises – why do you treat them so? They are more binding than you think; they are debts unpaid."_

"_Because he's broken my heart and it'll never be whole again,"_ she thought bitterly refraining from even thinking of the second query.

"_Would you want to break his heart again?"_ questioned the annoying voice. _"What makes you think he hasn't suffered as well?"_

Setting the pendant down on the counter once more, Hermione muttered to herself. She couldn't go and face the world now, with a battered conscience and weakened reserves. Manipulation and crafty business deals would be the last thing on her list of priorities today. Tired feelings washed over her as she reached for her quill and a fresh sheet of parchment for the third time that morning.

_Dear Dieythryn, _

_I am sorry to inform that I shall be working at home today. I have been feeling somewhat under-weather recently. As for my work accommodations away from the Center, well I have altered a muggle laptop to work within the vicinity of high magical concentration._

Hermione paused. Exactly what would she accomplish staying at home, moping and getting nothing done?

_I have found a way to interact with other altered laptops and shall work on convincing Project MF to affiliate themselves with our… company. _

_Regards,_

_Hermione Granger_

Walking over to her mini Owlery again, she chose another owl.

"Come here Hermes," she cooed. "Take this to my boss, you know where he is."

The tawny barn owl blinked and hooted as Hermione gently attached the scroll to his outstretched talon. He had been the first thing that she'd bought with her first paycheck. She smiled warmly as she remembered the inquisitive gold-flecked eyes that had watched her as she browsed the Magical Menagerie. Hermes was a sharp and alert owl who was best suited for quick emergency deliveries.

Opening the trap door, Hermione's peachy face caught a crisp gust of autumn air. Breathing in the scent of the apple cider old Mother Elena always sold down the street, she let the owl fly out.

Turning around, she found herself eye-to-eye with her remaining owl. She was a snowy white owl that was no larger than her two fists, one on top of the other. Named Diana for her viciously protective nature, the small owl hooted dolefully as her mistress excited the small room.

Plopping down on a plush couch in her living room, Hermione waved her vine wood wand over the sleek silver laptop and it instantly flickered to life. With another complex wand pattern and a murmured incantation, the laptop had been connected with the other machines that the wizarding companies had begun adapt for their convenience.

Frowning, she saw that she had received a wizard-mail from the representative of Project MF. Pushing back a ringlet that had escaped from the rest of her hair, Hermione pulled out a thick folder.

Crammed inside of the bulky folder were meticulous notes on Project MF. However, since she had not reached the area of negotiations yet, what the acronym MF stood for was unknown to her. Letting out a sigh, she traced a slender finger down the table of contents she had carefully made just days before, she spotted what she had been looking for.

"_Possibility of Negotiations_," she murmured to herself. "Leaflet 78."

Flipping through the mass of clippings and parchment, she found the desired page and scanned the block of notes she had taken from a previous meeting. Ignoring most of the detailed bits, Hermione focused on the last lines.

_Project MF is unwilling to affiliate or sell itself to our cause. The representative seems very cautious and wary of divulging too much information about his superiors. Much of this organization/company is unknown; all information on it is hypothetical and even so, incomplete. No future negotiations seem likely. Much consideration must be put into dealing with Project MF; signs indicate that it is run, if not owned by, a venerable wizarding line of purebloods. If a deal is struck, Project MF has made it clear that they are not selling their holdings._

Her forehead creased in worry. If the representative had made it clear that they wanted nothing to do with them. Biting her tongue, she clicked on the small scroll icon and the message appeared in an instant.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_We are delighted to inform you that we have now changed our former decision regarding negotiations. However, we still have no intention of selling our holdings. Perhaps we could become affiliates. However, we are unwilling to divulge much information about ourselves until a majority of the final decisions have been made._

_Sincerely,_

_MF_

Hermione let out a breath in amazement. If her hypothesis was correct and the owner was indeed a pureblood of an ancient wizarding line, then this w-mail she had just received was priceless. Possible clients and such rarely ever reconsidered without some urging or nudging, and here she had an opening that they had been looking for!

However, even in the light of her new breakthrough, Hermione was wary of the so called MF. The shadowy company had still denied them any information about themselves. Why did they want to hide their identity so badly? Sure, most clients liked to remain anonymous, but they never withheld as much information as the mysterious MF.

Shaking her head, she let out a growl of frustration. Out of the corner of her keen eyes, she saw a streak of orange. In a flash, Crookshanks was on her lap, purring, trying to solve his mistress' problems by snuggling against her body. Sighing, the young woman lifted her pet out of her lap and gently placed him on his private cushion.

"Thanks Crookshanks," she smiled. "But I don't think you can help right now."

The orange cat meowed sadly and curled up to go back to sleep. Moments later, a soft melody began to play as someone had rung the doorbell to her flat. Setting the folder down on the coffee table, she waved her wand over the laptop to hide the mysterious MF message. Getting up, she wove her way through her stacks of reference books and paperwork, Hermione reached the door as the last notes of music faded away.

Performing a complex unlocking charm, the young woman opened the door to find Ginny Weasly standing there with her boyfriend Harry Potter, the Boy-Who Lived and the Chosen One.

"'Mione!" squealed the red-headed beauty. "We thought that we'd drop by and see you! It's been so long – too long for my liking."

Hermione smiled as the enthusiastic young woman practically bounced off the walls as she exclaimed over the classy flat. Harry stood next to his girlfriend and pulled a wry smile as he wrapped his best friend in a huge bear hug.

"Gin is right you know," he said gruffly, always the one to unconsciously cut short more sentimental greetings with choppy words. "It's been too long."

Ginny pulled a face. "Aren't I always right, boyfriend of mine?"

Hermione laughed at the younger girl's antics and motioned towards the kitchen. Stepping in the cheery room, she went about preparing some fresh coffee for them.

"Mmm," sighed Ginny. "Does it always smell like coffee in here?"

The older witch looked startled, and then laughed. "No Ginny, it depends on what mood I'm in." Eyes twinkling, she cast a quick speeding charm on the coffee pot and aromatic perfumes floated out, mingling with the exotic scents.

"'Mione, was that wandless magic?"

Hermione looked up sharply. "What?"

Harry looked at her incredulously. "You just did wandless magic. Right when you cast the speeding charm on your coffee."

A look of realization dawned upon the witch's face. "Oh, I just use it for small things," she shrugged. "Like summoning charms and such – usually when I'm too lazy to get my wand out."

Harry looked at his friend with a mixture of exasperation and awe. "You'll never cease to amaze me, Hermione," he sighed. "You _do_ know that wandless magic is theoretically impossible."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Sometimes in my line of work, you just have to throw the rulebook out of the window. Success comes with a heavy price Harry, and you of all people should know that."

Ginny was already pouring out three mugs of coffee as their conversation ended abruptly. "It's really lonely without any of you guys at Hogwarts," she said sadly. "Teaching History of Magic is alright, I suppose. But I'm still petitioning for McGonagall to start up Healer classes. Merlin knows how many people will need it during this war."

Harry stiffened at the comment and the two witches eyed him with apprehension. "It's going to be fine," they chorused together as they exchanged identical looks of worry.

Sinking into one of Hermione's elevated bar stools; they sat around the counter stirring their coffee. The previously carefree mood had evaporated and been replaced with a darker one regarding the war that had been raging since the Ministry's official recognition of Voldemort's return in their sixth year. Harry's mouth was set in a thin line, and for the first time, Hermione noticed how much he had aged over the past years.

His eyes were still strikingly green, but faint bags under his eyes indicated restless nights, plagued with nightmares of accusations from Lord Voldemort's victims, for not saving them from the Dark Lord. His complexion was pale, as if he rarely spent any time outside enjoying the sun, but instead planning out complex Order rendezvous and painstakingly accumulating allies.

Hermione could now easily sense the exhaustion that surrounded and permeated his aura, giving the Boy-Who-Lived an aged and tired look. He was only twenty, but years of seeing horrors that even the most highly-trained Auror had never encountered was beginning to take a toll on him.

"So," said Hermione hesitantly. "How's work been for the two of you?"

Harry answered first. "Oh Auror work is just fine. We've managed to catch a few Death Eaters, but no one has been able to nab any important Death Eaters since we caught Lucius Malfoy in our fifth year."

Looking at their incredulous looks, Harry laughed. "Voldemort has been taking cautionary steps in who he confides his plans to and makes sure that they're rarely, if ever, sent out on a mission." he explained. "When we apprehended a dozen Death Eaters as students, Riddle lost his habit of making rash decisions – in other words, he eliminated his greatest weakness. All we Aurors can do is try our best. The Ministry's rules make it impossible to catch anyone important though, everyone's too paranoid."

Ginny stirred her coffee as she thought. "The students that are coming into Hogwarts each school year keep increasing. All the wizarding parents in Great Britain are seeing Hogwarts as the last bastion of Light. With so many wizards, trained or not, in a small area makes them feel that their children will be safer." she paused and sipped her drink. "But we're overloaded, bastion of Light or not. All the teachers are stressed out, trying to teach so many students. They're all eager to learn though – that's one good thing. But they're not simply inquisitive minds, they're learning so that they can survive."

Harry grimaced. "It's almost as if what we had to go through as students has spread out to the whole student population lately. Maybe even the entire wizarding community."

The three were silent again, lost in their own thoughts. The only sounds in the kitchen were the clinking sounds of their spoons hitting the side of their mugs as they stirred their coffee. These were dark times, and they all knew who was fated to end it or set it in concrete forever.

Then Hermione spoke up. "You know," she began. "It's almost as if the paranoia has spread to the business world."

Pausing, she saw that both Ginny and Harry had been pulled out of their reverie and were looking at her with startled expressions of curiosity.

"I've been working on a project, Project MF to be precise," she said. "And this company originally was pretty adamant about not negotiating anything with us. But.. I called in sick today – that's another story – and I was working on this case until you guys came in. Anyway, they decided to w-mail me saying that they had changed their minds, and _wanted_ to negotiate an affiliation of some sort."

Harry's eyebrows were knit together. "But what's so paranoid about that?" he questioned. "It's natural for someone to change their decision like that."

"That, is where you are wrong," frowned Hermione. "Businesses don't go around blatantly stating that they're not going to do any business with you, and then suddenly change their mind on impulse. It shakes the company's reliability if it makes such volatile decisions. But what's even stranger about this all is that _Project MF refuses to tell us anything about themselves_! If my guess is right, MF is a business run by a pureblood from an old wizarding line. Purebloods rarely change their decisions that they've made so public."

"Maybe it's not run by a pureblood," objected Ginny. "Sure, we're known for our pride and obsession with upholding our family's reputation and rubbish, but maybe the director is a muggle-born or half blood."

"Maybe," said the other witch. "But highly unlikely. I have a gut instinct that's telling me that this company is up to no good. Now, even though I'm pretty high up in the hierarchy at my company, I haven't been told about anything. All of my data was compiled through endless hours of research. I know that there's something going on. My company wants an affiliation – _badly_. And here the company has downright refused us, and then changed its mind abruptly and says that they _want_ and affiliation."

"D'you reckon that they're doing some underhanded dealings?" queried Harry. "That's always possible. You know very well that the business world isn't the most honest place with all that manipulation."

Hermione's face colored at the last comment. "Of course not!" she snapped, rather perturbed. "Do you honestly expect people to do anything in your favor if you don't _nudge_ them along a bit?"

Ginny bit back a retort as a sly smile formed on her face. Seeing her normally placated friend riled up was rather amusing. Everyone who had ever met Hermione Granger usually ended up ruffling her feathers at least once or twice, but rarely any more than that.

Harry's intense green eyes wandered from Hermione's angry expressions to his playful girlfriend's amused eyes. He bit back laughter as he guess at what the mischievous redhead was thinking, and his eyes sparkled with humor.

Music rang out in the room just before Hermione could even mutter a complaint. "I'll get that," she muttered, stalking out of the room.

Being careful to check her reflection in the hallway, she strode over to the door. Calling over her shoulder, she said, "Are you sure you're not expecting anyone?"

Hearing negative replies, Hermione cast the unlocking charm once more. No amount of preparation could have readied for the surprise that lurked beyond the solid wood door. The final lock clicked at the witch opened the door and saw a figure leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe – _her_ doorframe.

Opening her mouth to say something, Hermione found herself at a loss for words as she stared at the visitor.

"Who is it?" called Ginny from the living room.

Hermione could've sworn that she saw a smirk on his face as she began to repeat a rarely-used mantra over and over in her head.

"_Dear Merlin, it's Draco Malfoy. It's Draco Malfoy. It's Draco Malfoy and he's standing at my door. Dear Merlin, it's Draco Malfoy!"_

**Author's Note**

_This chapter was a little bit shorter than the last, but I wanted it to end like this. Cliffhangers – gotta love them! Read and review!_

_Yes, yes, I know that I said that I wouldn't write out personalized comments to my reviewers, but seeing that I don't have many, I might as well reply since I have time on my hands._

_mysteriouscharm – Ah yes, Draco is a very complex character, he is in love with Hermione but pride and dignity get in the way of a clear mind for him. In his eyes, betrayal is like murder, and he is also very judgmental, automatically assuming that rumors of Hermione betraying him are true._

_Domonique Vida – Aw :hugs herself: I feel so loved! I write chapters as fast as I can, trust me. I'd never deny my reviewers a new chapter._

_Kandygurl4 – I'm glad you like it, I live to please others. _

_Also, I know that Artemis couldn't possibly be Hermione's first wizarding pet, as I forgot that Crookshanks in half Kneazle. Anyway, to remedy this situation, Crookshanks is _not_ half-Kneazle in this story. I know it doesn't matter really, but I'm just jotting this down for the record._

_For those who want to know more about Hermione's job, or what company she works for and what it does, you'll get plenty more during the extravaganza she's planning, and perhaps during other chapters, we'll have to see. Keep in mind that Project MF is going to be a big part of this story as is Draco Malfoy, Harry, Ginny, Hermione (naturally!), and the Final Battle._

_Finally, what "betrayal" set the two lovers against each other? You'll find out as the chapters progress. I'm not quite sure how many more I'll have to write before we cover that, but it'll come in due time._


	4. Chapter 3: Uncovering Secrets

Hermione heard hasty movements in the living room as her friends dropped their mugs on the glass coffee table and bumped into her meticulous stacks of books as they tried to maneuver quickly through the mini maze. However, she had only eyes for the tall blonde leaning in her doorway. A small smirk played on his lips as steely gray eyes swept over her, as if judging her appearance.

Draco had been tongue-tied when he finally laid eyes on his ex-girlfriend after three years. She was stunning – no, she was exquisite. Taking another small peek at her, he felt that if possible, she was even more beautiful than she was in their seventh year. He felt an odd sense of caring towards the witch in front of him.

"_You've been raised to find someone better than that Mudblood,_" he chided to himself.

"_Yes, but hasn't she proven herself worthy yet? Haven't these past years contained enough pain?"_ he asked himself, although unsure of the answer.

Even though she was dressed in the clothes of a muggle designer, Draco had to hand it to them – whoever they were – they had done a magnificent job. Her hair had straightened out naturally from tumultuous waves to smooth ones that were still tucked up in an elegant knot. Her eyes were wide and keen as ever, but emotions raced through them that she desperately was trying to hide.

He could see the emotions flashing through her large chocolate brown eyes – hate, surprise, love, hope, sadness, pain, and longing. He sighed mentally, girls were always emotional. But a Malfoy never let emotions wreak havoc inside. Emotions caused weakness and were restrained by a mental iron hand.

Normally, no one could read Hermione Granger's feelings, but inside of her was a storm of emotions that was begging to let out. Today was definitely not her day. Her insides were quivering at the sight of her ex-boyfriend and she longed to go up to him and embrace him. She wanted to know if he had missed her – if he had suffered at all from her parting words. Most of all, she wanted to know if he still loved her.

**Flashbacks**

_A young girl stood in a darkened corridor as a nervous young man spoke to her._

"_I love you."_

_Two Hogwarts students, arms intertwined, strolled down the lush grounds of the campus. The young man whispered something in the witch's ear and a playful banter ensued. Conjuring up a red rose wandlessly, he gently tucked it in her hair._

"_I love you."_

_A witch dressed in a ravishing golden ball gown with a scooped out neckline that accented her figure descended down the stairs. A young wizard met her at the foot of the staircase, corsage in hand, and extended an arm to help her down. She smiled at him and he bowed at her. Sweeping him an elegant curtsy, she then locked arms with his and they entered the Great Hall._

"_I love you."_

_Tears trickled down a young girl's cheeks, a parchment held loosely in her left hand. Staring up at the moon, she wondered if her mother would see the same one in heaven. From the back, she felt someone's presence. Not bothering to turn around, she cried as he placed a gentle arm around her and pulled her into a soothing embrace._

**End of Flashbacks**

"I love you," she murmured to herself, scarcely breathing.

A blonde eyebrow arched up as Draco heard Hermione mumble something to herself. He couldn't quite discern what she had said, but he noticed a tear tumbling down from her beautiful eyes. He longed to step up and hug her, to offer some comfort to the pretty young woman, but he squashed the unwanted feelings and continued to stare in stony silence.

By now Ginny and Harry had reached the foyer and stood behind Hermione. Ginny had a comforting hand on the older witch's shoulder as she glared at the unwanted newcomer.

"What are you doing here?" she managed to gasp out.

"And hello to you as well Miss _Granger_," he replied silkily.

"She has no obligation to welcome you into her home," retorted Ginny, stepping forward, unable to restrain her comments. "She also has no obligation to keep you here."

Draco sneered. "Obligation _to me _or not, I've come on a business call," he said. "And I fully intend to carry out that call unless you're willing to stop me."

Dashing any chances of an all-out fight, Hermione put a restraining hand on Ginny's shoulder and pulled her back. "You guys can come over at, a more agreeable time…" she said hesitantly.

Harry nodded stonily and circled his arms around Ginny. Hermione wandlessly silenced the furious redhead, trusting that Harry would know enough as to when to undo the charm. Eying Draco with distrust, Harry tightened his hold on Ginny and Disapparated without a sound.

Although Draco was undoubtedly shocked by the soundless Apparition, he hid it well behind his expressionless Malfoy mask.

"So," he smirked. "Still fooling around with Potty and Weasel?"

In a flash, Harry was back again with a smoldering look in his eyes. Hermione rolled her eyes and sent a telepathic message to Harry.

_/- I'm a grown woman Harry, I can handle this. Don't you forget that I can forcibly evict you from my dwelling due to the wards I've set up. Now I've got half a mind to take you off of the list that allows you to bypass my Anti-Apparition wards! -/_

Harry looked slightly shocked at the force of the message and turned slightly to face the fuming witch. One glance at her murderous gaze told him that she had meant every word. After all, Hermione had always been the most gifted at mental magics.

Understanding that a mental message had been sent, Draco seized the chance to jab at Harry. "Come on Harry, we all knew that you didn't take rejection lightly at Hogwarts, but this is a bit over the top, don't you think?"

Frowning, Harry fought to keep his emotions down. With an encouraging touch in his mind, he managed to reply in a smooth baritone voice, "From what I remember, you were the one that had to face the rejection."

With that, Hermione wove a quick spell and pushed Harry out of her flat. Turning to face her ex-boyfriend, she examined him with a hard calculating gaze. Her mind had returned to its business phase, she examined the young man in front of her as if sizing up an opponent in a duel. He had matured over the years, but she had no way of telling whether he had abandoned his bloodline prejudices.

Knowing that Draco Malfoy had not been sorted into Slytherin for any weak-minded reason, Hermione eyed him warily. Unconsciously, she was reinforcing her mental shields and shifted into her range of vision that would allow her to detect the magical make-up of spells and auras. She was sensing that he was normal – meaning he wasn't under _Imperio_; at least there was one good sign…

She was pretty sure that Draco had no idea who she was. She worked in a semi-undercover, however very influential, position at her company and was reasonably unknown in the business world as Hermione Granger. Whenever she attended charity balls, or formal business events, the young woman was known as Katelyn Bellezza of an old pureblood line. As much as she hated to admit it, masquerading under a pureblood's identity did the best for her company.

Hermione panicked as she noticed that Draco was beginning to lose interest in their staring contest. With his eyes roaming the flat, he would soon see the pendant that he had given her years ago lying on the counter. Complex emotions would arise once more and right now, Hermione needed a clear mind to work with.

In her panic, she used a silent incantation wandlessly to hide the pendant from site. But with her haste, she forgot to shield the spell's aura as it sped towards the pendant.

However, Draco didn't suspect anything until the spell collided with the pendant. A deafening bang sounded out through the flat and the goblin magic that the pendant had been enchanted with, reflected the strong spell that met with the back of the harried witch's head.

A tangle of emotions rose heavily in his throat, causing him to swallow forcibly. Whoever would have thought that the sight of a girl could wreak so much havoc? They had played their own little game back at Hogwarts, but that was different. Everything had a meaning, and that was the only fact that was concrete in their dealings. It had been bordering nearly on obsession before their strange relationship had blossomed to the next level.

"_Emotions are your weakness,_" he gently chided himself as he drew his wand from a hidden robe pocket. What was in the past was long dead now, it would be best to keep that in mind.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" he incanted.

Levitating the unconscious witch, Draco couldn't help it but feel sorry for her. Just _seeing_ him had set her on the edge, but why didn't she want him to see the pendant? It could bring up some awkward questions, but nothing that couldn't be quieted by a snapped remark or a piercing glare – neither of which she was lacking in. Hermione Granger was a mystery to him, forever and for always.

Setting her down on the couch, he took a seat in one as well. If he remembered correctly, any lingering effects of a goblin's enchantments would vanish within an hour or so. Looking around the stylish living room, he wasn't surprised to see that her overflow of books was stacked all around the room.

As his gaze roamed about the room, he saw he bewitched laptop. Even though he didn't recognize what it was, he knew it had to be important. Perhaps it had something to do with her line of work. No one who had graduated with her, except a select few of her friends, knew what Hermione Granger did for a living. Curiosity piqued, he stared at the sleek silver object.

Minutes later, Draco became exasperated and decided that staring at the mysterious object would do nothing to help him. Glancing over at the unconscious form of Hermione, the wizard noticed that even in her sleep, she looked concerned.

Her golden brown eyebrows were furrowed in thought, almost as if she were working when she was sleeping. A wisp of hair lay out of place and had settled on her cheek. Impulsively, he reached out and gently tucked it behind her ear, something he had done often during their time at Hogwarts.

Settling back into the comfy chair, he sighed. The silver object no longer held any interest within him so, eventually, Draco noticed the bulging folder lying on the coffee table. Evidently she had been working before receiving visits from Weasel and Potty.

He knew it was childish and petty to hold on to those names he had made up as a student, but part of him felt that it anchored him in a spot that had nothing to do with _Granger._

Opening the folder, Malfoy was astonished to find newspaper clippings and massive amounts of parchment with notes taken in small writing. Examining the first parchment, he saw a sort of table of contents. Squinting to make out the title, he noticed that Hermione was stirring.

"_Project MF_," he said aloud.

It seemed like a familiar acronym, but he couldn't quite place where he had heard of it. Frowning, he set the folder back in its original spot. What_ did_ she do for a living? Sneaking another glance, he was relieved to see that she was still unconscious.

He had half an hour to kill… But what was there to do?

"Figures that the first time I come in contact with Granger," he mumbled. "I end up in perpetual boredom as I wait for her."

**Flashbacks**

_Draco sat in the common room of the Head Girl and Boy dormitories. The room was lavishly decorated in the rich Gryffindor colors and the deep Slytherin green. Trying to concentrate on his transfiguration text, he struggled to understand the relevance of discussing Ancient Runes in his text book. Soon bored of the meaningless explanations he was being given in the textbook, Draco got closed the book and crossed his arms. He was _supposed_ to be holding a meeting with the prefects, but protocol required him to wait for the Head Girl in order to attend the first meeting of the school year. Growling in frustration, he paced around the common room, full of resentment and boredom._

_The wizard stood at the foot of the magical staircase, waiting for his date to arrive. He had been pretty adamant about keeping his date a secret from all of the students and he was now nervous about revealing his secret girlfriend. Even though he was pretty sure that his date would be coming, he didn't know when! Girls took a long time, but his date was taking longer than every other girl. His friends had already left, having picked up their dates, leaving him alone. Anticipating, and unfortunately bored._

**End of Flashbacks**

How could he possibly have second thoughts about this girl? This slip of a girl that had betrayed him so cruelly years ago? His mind was in a frenzy, trying to make sense of the mysterious emotion that has resurfaced after three years.

"_She's no slip of a girl anymore Draco,_" he thought to himself. "_She stopped being a child long before you did._"

"_But she's gone against everything I've been raised to be,_" he reminded himself. "_And yet I'm falling head over heels for her – again._"

So lost in his thoughts, Draco failed to notice Hermione trying to sit up on the couch. The magical backlash of her spell had hit her full-force, leaving her with a lovely migraine. Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself upright and massaged her head. Then she noticed that Draco was sitting on the seat across from her.

"Draco?" she said tentatively. "Are you alright?"

He looked up and they locked gazes. Her eyes now reflected genuine concern for him while his emotions were clearly displayed on his face. Emotions flashed through his eyes like they had for Hermione before, confusion and internal struggle flickering on and off.

Scrambling desperately to call up his famed Malfoy mask, he felt as if his thoughts were made of lead. A wave of relief washed through him as he was finally able to suppress his emotions.

"Nothing is wrong," he managed to smirk. "If I recall this correctly, _you_ were the one that got hit by her own spell. A little too old for accidental magic aren't we? Make sure that you don't give another shameful display like the one earlier next time we meet."

Hermione flushed in embarrassment, but failed to correct him about her wandless magic. The less people knew about your abilities, the more likely they will underestimate your powers.

"Well, as you're going to have to take _quite_ a while recovering from that display," he drawled. "I'll come back to conduct business another day, Granger."

Smirking in satisfaction, Hermione watched as Draco made a fruitless attempt at Apparition.

"You can't Apparate within the boundaries or 100 feet around my flat," she explained impatiently. "You'll have to walk out the muggle way."

Casting her a furious look, Draco slammed the front door shut upon his exit. Still chuckling to herself, Hermione waved her wand in a lazy pattern and the familiar locking sound was heard.

"_Now that someone's made quite a mess out of my day_," she thought. "_Where should I go? I can't possibly concentrate now."_

Getting up from her couch, Hermione made her way back to her room. She'd need to change out of her work clothes if she wasn't going to work today. Minutes later, Hermione emerged from her room clad in a set of elegant black robes. Silver lining peeked out at the billowy sleeves and the scooped out neckline.

Still massaging her poor head, the witch went into her potions lab to locate a pain-relieving potion.

"Only useful thing Snape taught us," she grumbled to herself.

Searching through her organized shelves of potions, Hermione muttered to herself. "There's Murtlap Essence, Pain-Relieving Potion, and PepperUp Potion…" she paused for a moment. "Oh! There it is."

Grabbing the sky blue potion, she unscrewed the top of the potion and stared dubiously at the contents. Sniffing the bubbling potion, Hermione took a sip and felt a warm drop of liquid ease down her throat.

"Not bad," she commented.

Downing the entire potion, she placed the empty flask on the shelf that read, _Potions to Brew_. Exiting the brewing room, Hermione went back into the kitchen to grab some lunch. Glancing at the clock, she saw that two hours had passed since Ginny and Harry had left. With her stomach grumbling loudly, she pulled out some shepherd's pie and a mug full of foaming hot Butterbeer.

Casting a quick heating charm on the plat of pie, Hermione dug into the savory meal. It wasn't until she had demolished two slices of pie that she realized the pendant was still sitting on the counter. Unblemished from her wild spellwork, Hermione deduced that the shield around it probably was some type of Goblin enchantment.

Picking up the necklace gingerly, Hermione thought it would be best if the Goblin enchanted thing was stored away.

"_But what would be an ideal place to store an enchanted object?"_ she thought.

A thought sprang into her mind as she pondered her alternatives. "_Accio_ _Specialis Arca,_" she called softly.

From the direction of her room came a small gilded treasure chest no bigger than a jewelry box. Inlaid on the top of the chest was the crest of Rowena Ravenclaw. Hermione smiled as she traced the intricate design with a finger. It was a relic that Harry had managed to secure and give to her on the day they left Hogwarts.

She had never been able to open it however, and she strongly suspected that it was keyed to direct descendants of the clever Hogwarts Founder.

Hermione wracked her mind for the information that she had found regarding the valued box. It naturally was charmed so that it would offer limitless space within and also could contain enchanted objects without setting them off. Suddenly, a spell came unbidden to her lips.

"_Patefacio sursum ut ego, prosperitas Ravenclaw versus, cruor Rowena Ravenclaw liquidus in meus vena habeo."_

Too shocked for words, Hermione watched as the box opened and a lilting voice resounded through the room.

"_Dear child, as you have figured out the secret of this box, I hereby bequeath the long-lost fortunes of the Ravenclaw line at Gringotts to you. Within this box, you will find the proper documents and a listing of your genealogy that will prove that you are indeed my heir. Congratulations young one, I am glad that my successor has been found."_

Fingers trembling, Hermione picked up a worn piece of parchment that unfolded neatly and read, _The Ravenclaw Family Line_. Slowly, the flowing script of Rowena appeared on the worn sheet.

_Come now child, explore your heritage. Simply tap your wand upon this parchment and enunciate your name clearly. Documents within the Ministry shall be activated upon enunciation and add "Ravenclaw" to your surname._

Drawing out her wand, the stunned witch was careful to say, "Hermione Jane Granger."

The former message faded away and more writing continued.

_Ah, you believe yourself to be a Muggle-born child, don't you Hermione? Well, the truth lies here in your roots. Have no fear though; you are indeed my rightful successor with such a sharp mind like yours._

A complex diagram began assembling itself below the message. Hermione examined the family tree and noted that Rowena's blood came from her mother's side. Examining the label under her mother, her eyes widened. Her mother wasn't even a Squib – she was a witch! Her father was the only muggle ever to marry a witch of the Ravenclaw line. But why had her mother hidden her true heritage?

"Mudblood indeed," she snorted. "I'm a halfblooded heir of Rowena Ravenclaw's – but of what matter is blood?"

Getting up from the squashy seat, she cleaned her dishes magically and sent them back to the cupboard. Summoning a trifle from another cupboard, she took a mouthful of the sherry-soaked sponge cake and examined the family tree.

"Good heavens," she murmured. "This is going to have to wait until later."

Depositing the pendant unceremoniously into the chest along with the parchment, Hermione heard locks click as she shut the lid firmly. Slipping the mysterious relic into her front pocket, she concentrated on the bustling image of Diagon Alley and vanished with a barely audible pop.

_**Diagon Alley**_

Hermione surveyed the streets, watching vendors trying to sell their wares. Some were selling fall-time treats that muggles and wizards alike enjoyed – hot apple cider, and roasted chestnuts. Others were pawning off supposed "Anti-Death Eater Charms" and various other useless items that con-men were trying to sell, using the people's apprehension against them. With a sigh, Hermione trudged up the streets, a crisp autumn wind biting at her cheeks as she traveled towards the Ministry of Magic.

Inside the large building, wizards and witches bustled around carrying various loads of paperwork and winged memos zoomed overhead. One nearly collided with Hermione's head but veered slightly off-course and regained its balance as it made its way towards the lift.

Handing her wand over for inspection, she barely heard the man look at her curiously as he said, "11" Vine wood, Dragon Heartstring core? Hmm, Hermione Jane Granger-Ravenclaw…"

He stared at the attractive, but distracted young woman in front of him with a look of curiosity. "You're one of Harry Potter's best friends aren't you? I recognize you from the papers, but I've never heard of any Ravenclaw successors."

She flashed him a smile but looked rather annoyed. "That's what I'm here for. My wand, if you will?"

Flushing, he noticed that he was still holding her wand. She didn't bother casting another glance at him as she strode away, looking for some hint at where the birth records were stored.

"May I help you miss?" inquired a young man.

"Oh, yes, I'm looking for the Department of Birth and Life Records," she said. "Mr….?"

"Mr. Octavos, Miss…?" he replied pleasantly.

Ignoring the obvious implication that he was asking for his name, she cocked an eyebrow at him. "And the Department of Birth and Life Records?" she inquired again, a tad annoyed.

"Over to your left, ma'm, just past the Department of Mysteries," he informed.

Nodding in thanks, Hermione set out towards the slightly emptier corridor and memories of her fifth year began to sink in.

**Flashbacks**

…_from right behind them, a drawling voice said, "Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me"_

_Several of the Death Eaters laughed. A harsh female voice from the midst of the shadowy figure to Harry's left said triumphantly, "The Dark Lord always knows!"_

"Collportus!_" she gasped and the door sealed itself with an odd squelching noise._

_What do we do?" she asked Harry, trembling from head to foot._

"STUPEFY!_" she screamed, just catching up with Harry and Neville. The jet of red light hit the Death Eater in the middle of his chest; he froze, his arm still raised, his wand fell to the floor with a clatter and he collapsed backward toward the bell jar. _

"Accio Wand!" _she cried. Harry's wand flew from a dark corner into her hand and she threw it to him._

"_It's time," she said in an awestruck voice. "_Time…"

_A Death Eater she had just struck dumb towered in front of her. Hermione was sure that she could she a maniacal smile upon his lips. Time seemed to slow down as the Death Eater grinned and made a harsh slashing motion with his wand. A burning purple flame streaked toward her, moving too quickly for her to block. It lashed at her across her chest and she felt her heart constrict in fear…_

**End of Flashbacks**

Hermione felt her throat contract as she quickly made her way past the Department of Mysteries where the horrors of her friends lay from five years ago.

A cheerful receptionist greeted her at the door of the Department of Birth and Life Records. "Hello," she chirped. "Are you looking up records of yourself or a family member? Please remember that in order to access records of someone other than yourself, they must be of your bloodline and you must have written consent from them."

Hermione carefully considered her words before replying. "I seek my personal records," she said.

"Alright, in that case, I would need your full name and ancestry," she said after consulting one of her ledgers.

Hermione cleared her throat hesitantly. "Well, you see, I don't know what the Ministry would consider my ancestry or full name," she began. "I recently discovered an interesting part of my heritage that has changed both my name and ancestry, or what I _thought_ was my ancestry."

Pulling out the treasure chest, Hermione waved a hand over the lid and heard locks click. Opening the precious artifact, she was just as shocked as the receptionist. The parchment that originally appeared as a family tree had a new message written in Rowena's hand.

_Hermione Jane Rowena Granger-Ravenclaw_

_Rightful Heir to the Ravenclaw and Malfoy Fortunes_

_Rightful Heir to the legendary Magiae Libra_

**Author's Note**

_Ooooh! It's a slightly longer chapter:pats herself on the back and ends up twisted something: Ouch… Anyhow, I hope you guys like it! More mysteries are forming and our favorite Slytherin has made his first appearance!_

_Also, I know that Hermione entered Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at age 12, so how can she have graduated three years ago and still be twenty? Well, it's the autumn (I got lucky here, I originally only made it autumn since that's my favorite season) and her birthday happens to be in September, so I guess within the next few chapters, her birthday will come up._

_Finally, I hope that my reviewers can start submitting some constructive criticism, if possible, but NO FLAMES:chuckles nervously:_

_Tenna Fallen:gasps: I've converted someone into a HP Fanfic reader? Wheee! Thanks too. :smiles: Here's your next chapter!_

_Ersatzxlove: Hey Emmy! Thanks, and I try to update every two days or something like that. Thanks for following my directions and finding the story properly. :looks innocent:_

_Autumnxrain: Hey Kathy! Thanks, I don't like how my summary is a bit choppy, but I worked on it for a little. You read the disclaimer? Wowie, I just put it there so I wouldn't wake up and get sued. Why on earth do you have to review for each chapter even after I've posted another:looks confused: Yes, yes, I know you love the angst and it makes you cry. I think you're the only person who cries when they read my work. How yummy is Draco? Hm, I don't know, maybe I'll leave out future descriptions of him to spite you. And, I'm sure Crookshanks is a guy too... (Stop sending so many reviews!) Yes, yes, your Dragon… But no Christmas present… Don't you have him trapped in your I-River anyway?_

_Sunsetfan12: Thanks!_

_So that's all folks! (As the Looney Tunes like to say) A new chapter may be delayed since I'm going to be busy this weekend. Review!_


	5. Chapter 4: Exploring the Treasures

Hermione's thoughts whirled as she let out a gasp. Her heart constricted in fear as she and the stunned receptionist stared at the second line. How could she be the rightful heir to the _Malfoy_ fortune? She knew that the august line of pureblooded wizards and witches would never name a witch they thought to be a muggle-born as their heiress. What kind of trickery was at work here?

The flustered receptionist finally regained some of her composure as she tore her gaze from the enchanted parchment. "Hermione Jane Granger-Ravenclaw, is it? Well, w-w-w-we'll see to it that y-y-your records are in order," she said in a quavering voice.

Nodding absent-mindedly, Hermione shut the mysterious little box and shoved it a bit roughly back into her robe pockets. Apparating out of the Ministry, she found herself at the doors of Gringotts. The massive Goblin-wrought doors towered above even the tallest wizard alive and the witch felt shivers run down the small of her back. Although, as she had learned in Binns' classes, many Goblin rebellions had been put down, their work still often inspired fear as well as beauty and complexity. With a wry smile, she remembered her earlier encounter with a certain Goblin-made pendant.

Stepping inside the massive structure, Hermione felt a cool breeze dance across her face like a spectral pixie of the air. Here, Goblins sat upon tall stools, some weighing Galleons while others recorded copious amounts of money in massive ledgers which were precariously balanced on old-fashioned slanted wooden desks.

Overwhelmed with the information that she had just received at the Ministry, Hermione walked quickly towards a desk of Goblins. The closest Goblin looked up at her, his face a somber mask of indifference. Long ago, Hermione had learned that Goblins were like the Malfoys in some ways, unwilling to show emotions in public.

"Good day Griphook," she said, recognizing Harry's favorite Goblin. "I would like to sort out some financial records of mine."

"Ah, Miss Granger, it is nice to see you again," he replied with a slight smile. He had always been slightly more receiving towards Harry's friends. "Would you like to settle financial matters by visiting your vault or would you prefer to confer with a financial consultant?"

She mulled this over, wondering if she could even get into the vaults with only a parchment as proof of being the heiress to the Ravenclaw fortune. "If you will, Mr. Griphook, I'd prefer it if you could assist me at the moment."

He nodded at the young woman and shuffled several papers together. Sliding off of the elevated stool, he motioned for her to follow him as he wove his way around piles of gold and the odd brass scale.

Coming upon a gilded door, he stroked the ornamentation near where a door handle would be, Hermione heard a series of complicated locks shift. With a final touch, the Goblin stood back, placing himself slightly behind the witch. Hermione watched in fascination as the door melted away like molten gold.

As she and Griphook entered the refined business room, she was immediately amazed by the elegantly crafted furniture. Behind her, she heard an odd squelching noise. Turning around, Hermione saw that the door had reassembled itself and had been locked once more. She vaguely wondered if Griphook had used a Goblin variation of the _Colloportus _spell.

"Where are we?" she wondered out loud.

"Ah, but only the finest for the long-lost heiress to the Ravenclaw line, miss," Griphook said.

"How di-," she began.

"We were alerted by a special alarm this morning, that one of our benefactor's vaults could now be accessed by a newly-found heiress," he said, answering her unasked question.

"Rowena Ravenclaw was a benefactor of a Goblin bank?" she mused.

"She and Godric Gryffindor founded the bank," corrected the knowledgeable Goblin. "It was their wish to leave their fortunes to their rightful heirs and heiresses. How they knew who and when their rightful heirs would be born is beyond my knowledge."

He crossed the room and rummaged around in a small drawer at the far end of the long table situated in the middle of the room. Drawing out several thick scrolls of parchment, he slid them across the table where they stopped in front of Hermione.

Taking a seat in a plush sapphire colored seat, she picked up the documents and immediately recognized the seal of Ravenclaw. The shield shaped crest was edged with gold trimming and a raven flapped its majestic wings and cawed silently in the middle of it. In its claws, there was a golden scroll and a single eagle quill symbolizing intelligence.

"_Diffindo,_" she said quietly, watching the spell neatly separate the seal from the parchment.

The scroll unfurled itself and a small pin materialized and pricked Hermione's index finger. A single drop of blood fell onto the parchment and the pinprick healed before she could gasp in surprise, leaving only a dull throb in her finger.

Slowly, the contents of the parchment appeared and the blood that the pin had taken formed into the shape of a phoenix at the bottom. A key adorned with the Ravenclaw crest rested in the middle of the document.

_I, Rowena Ravenclaw, do hereby bequeath all of my properties and vaults to one halfblooded heiress of the Ravenclaw line, Hermione Jane Granger-Ravenclaw. The contents of the Ravenclaw family vault shall be available to my heiress upon her recognition, and my 9,618,357,642 galleons shall be transferred to her vault. The Goblins of Gringotts shall abide her requests however large or small and act accordingly to the blood oath they swore centuries ago._

Picking up the second scroll, she slit the seal and unrolled the parchment to see that it did not need any blood to reveal its contents. Upon the thick parchment was a single sentence.

_You, Hermione Jane Granger-Ravenclaw, are now registered as a Unicorn Animagus, however, the Ministry's only record of this registration is the existence of this Animagus and not its identity._

Looking up from the parchment, Hermione saw Griphook looking directly at her, his long fingers pressed together, an expression of respect written across his stern features.

"Your wish is my command, Lady Hermione," he said, intoning the ancient Goblin ritual of allegiance. "I give my loyalty to you and the heir to Godric Gryffindor on behalf of the Goblin world, and pledge to give you steadfast support in your efforts to defeat the Dark One."

"I, as the heiress of the Lady Rowena accept your most noble pledge," she whispered, sealing the pact of allegiance.

"Come then, milady, to the vaults of your ancestors."

Following the small Goblin to the back of the room, she saw Griphook repeating the same stroking gestures and saw the door melt away to reveal the platform of the large Ravenclaw family vault.

"This vault contains all of the Ravenclaw family heirlooms," he informed the stunned witch. "There are two other vaults containing the Ravenclaw fortune and the other filled with various wizarding objects."

Stepping onto the marble platform, Hermione turned around to see Griphook still standing in the doorway of the conference room. "It is keyed specifically to family members and trusted friends not under the influence of mind control spells," he explained rather edgily. "Those who are not welcome would receive a most unpleasant surp-,"

Interrupting the wary Goblin, Hermione gave him a look of surprise. "You, Griphook, have sworn your allegiance to me. It would be most disrespectful to not allow you to enter the domain of a family whom you have given your loyalty to."

Bowing to her courteously, the Goblin simply replied, "Rowena chose well."

Blushing, she went up to the extravagantly decorated set of doors and read the golden plaque that had been fitted into the floor ages ago.

_Beyond thine doors_

_t'Ravenclaw family heirlooms _

_Treasures thy heart may wish to seize_

_Bold of heart, true of mind_

_Thy thought oft treads _

_Far from known lands of legends_

_A word may speak_

_An allegiance to prove_

_And oft use_

_A phrase of meaning_

"Hermione Jane Granger-Ravenclaw, come to explore the Ravenclaw family vault and claim it as my inheritance," she said, her voice resounding through the caves.

As the large doors swung open, the two were greeted with a dazzling vault three times the size of the Hogwarts Great Hall. Bookcases lined every wall, and the various treasures that crowded the room were all neatly organized.

Beckoning for Griphook to follow, Hermione entered the vault. "You may pick out anything that you want," she said kindly to the Goblin.

Holding up her hand to forestall any objections, she continued. "I'll be in here for around an hour, so I supposed that you should have some fun exploring," she explained.

The Goblin nodded, his eyes shining reverently as he headed over to one of the piles of treasures.

As Hermione wandered about the riches of the Ravenclaw family, she wondered if other family vaults contained any books. As she perused the treasures, occasionally stopping to examine an old telescope of curious artifact, she sang:

_Nature's first green is gold_

_Her hardest hue to hold._

_Her early leaf's a flower;_

_But only so an hour._

_Then leaf subsides to leaf,_

_So Eden sank to grief,_

_So dawn goes down to day._

_Nothing gold can stay._

Surely all this treasure was worth something. But what need did she have for so much gold? Boundless wealth had been contained inside the large vault, wealth that she could never spend in a thousand lifetimes.

"Griphook?" she called out.

Immediately he was at her side. "How may I assist you Lady Ravenclaw?" he inquired.

"Send some of these treasures," she indicated a pile of golden statues. "To St. Mungo's as a large donation, but make sure that they have no great importance to the Ravenclaw family first."

Nodding, the Goblin snapped his fingers and a small ledger appeared in front of him. Grabbing a quill out of thin air, Griphook wrote down the request and with another snap, he sent it to be processed immediately. "That would be approximately 500,000 galleons donated to charity," he informed her.

"Thank you Griphook," she said warmly. "Have you chosen what you've wanted yet?"

Shaking his head, Hermione sent him off to find something that he would "need and like."

Turning around, she spotted a wardrobe and went over to investigate. As soon as she touched the oaken doors, they sprang open to reveal a large space crammed with beautiful robes. Pulling one out, she slipped out of her black robes and donned the new royal blue robes.

She turned around when she heard a small pop and saw that her old robes had vanished. A small voice sounded within her head, "_Wear the robes of the Ravenclaw family with pride, my dear. I have sent your robes back to your flat so you can choose one of my robes to wear instead_."

Frowning, Hermione turned around to face the mirror set into the doors of the wardrobe. The royal blue robes clung to her figure so perfectly that she suspected it had several fitting charms cast upon it. The sleeves billowed out, starting with a slight flare at her elbow. The dipping neckline was edged in golden embroidery and the Ravenclaw crest was artfully displayed on the left side of the robe. The robe flowed out like water at the waist and ended at the tops of her shoes.

"I suppose this will do," she muttered to herself, clearly unhappy about flaunting her newly discovered heritage.

Closing the wardrobe, Hermione made her way over to the bookshelves. Upon the wooden shelves were ancient tomes. Scrutinizing a volume, Hermione saw that most of the books were original manuscripts written by Ravenclaw family members and many other noted authors.

Placing the book back in its place, the book-loving witch was tempted to cart out a whole shelf of books to read. Resisting the temptation, she turned away from the bookcases and saw a table of quills.

One red-gold quill was warm and soft at her touch. Drawing back her hand in surprise, she noted that even after centuries of lying in the dust, golden ink flowed freely from the tip. Touching the golden substance, she murmured a detection spell.

"_Specialis Revelio!" _she said, incanting the spell.

Red, orange, and golden colored smoke flowed out of the quill and assembled itself in the air above the peculiar feather. Floating above the quill was a perfect image of a phoenix with a bar of gold clutched in its talons.

Hermione's eyes grew wide as she picked up the phoenix feather quill. Phoenixes were said to be very rare and choosy creatures. They rarely granted feathers for anything, and had been said to have never given a precious feather to use as a quill. Legends had often said Rowena's Animagus form was a phoenix and even then, she rarely healed anyone or gave feathers to those unworthy of her gifts.

Quickly, she pocketed the precious quill and left the table. Meandering throughout the vault, she finally found a small fist sized statue of an eagle. Strikingly green emeralds were set into the golden statue and reminded her remarkably of Harry. Pocketing it as well, she reminded herself to give it to Harry the next time they met.

Half an hour later, Hermione had amassed a small collection of statues within her robe pockets. Although she had not shrunken or charmed any of them, the robes were not pulled down by the weight of five solid gold statues. There was a lioness with ruby eyes for Ginny, a wolf with sapphire eyes for Ron, and a pair of matching pearl-eyed unicorns for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

As she continued to wander around the vault, a flash of silver caught her eye and she went back to investigate it. On the top of a bureau, Hermione picked up a medallion with a life-like carving of a silver dragon etched upon the gold. Soft pearl-gray jewels had been carefully inserted into the dragon's narrowed eyes. A lump formed in her throat as she dashed away a tear that fell from her eyes unbidden.

Impulsively, she grabbed the blue ribbon that held the medallion and slid it over her head. The dragon's eyes shone with life as the golden pendant settled above the neckline of her robes. Touching her skin, the gold lent a comforting glow to the space around it.

"Griphook?" she called.

He appeared once again at her side. "Yes, Lady Ravenclaw?"

"I'd like to leave now," she said, suddenly feeling rather drained. "I'm going to pick up a cloak on the way out, but have you chosen anything yet?"

The Goblin nodded and showed her a small book entitled _Goblin Tales_. "It's an original manuscript," he said haltingly. "We Goblins treasure any copy of this book as it is very rare and it is the equivalent to your 'fairy tales'."

Seeing that he was looking for some kind of approval, she gave him a large smile. "You can keep it Griphook; I doubt that a witch like me could ever fully understand the importance of a Goblin book," she said demurely.

"Ah, but you are no normal witch," he said and disappeared from the vault.

Grabbing a matching cloak, Hermione noticed that the golden clasp was of a raven shape. "_Look like the Ravenclaw line really did have something for ravens,_" she thought with amusement.

As she quickly walked through the vault doors, they shut with a resounding bang and she left the vault as if it hadn't ever been disturbed.

As she walked through the doorways, she blinked a couple times, adjusting to the bustle of the Gringotts main hall. When she passed Griphook on her way to the door, she could have sworn that she saw him wink at her.

Outside, she felt the autumn wind bid her good day as she breathed in the sharp smell of spices. Looking around, she saw that Diagon Alley was wreathed in colorful leaves and people bustling around looks bright and cheery in the wonderful weather. Although some of her friends hated the fall, Hermione loved this time of year as much as Christmas.

Crossing the street, Hermione walked along the pavement silently delighting in the colorful surroundings. Upon reaching the Leaky Cauldron, the young witch had attracted several stares and whispers when the wind had blown her cloak aside to reveal the Ravenclaw crest.

Bells chimed as she entered the small pub and saw that it was packed with wizards and witches seeking some warmth after an afternoon of shopping.

Sitting down at the bar Hermione placed an order for a mug of Butterbeer. She carefully adjusted her cloak so that it would cover the conspicuous crest. Mentally cursing herself for ever donning the robe, she waited for her drink to arrive.

Tom, the barman, soon arrived with her warm drink and Hermione gratefully took it and told him to charge the drink to her vault. Sipping the creamy drink, she looked around the bar to see that Madam Rosemerta was busy waiting tables and not flirting with her male patrons.

Snickering quietly, she then mentally chided herself, "_She's a nice woman if you can look past her flirting. It's really just a game…_"

The minutes ticked by quickly as more and more shoppers poured in to have a drink. Finally, she spotted Draco walk in. He looked around the bar as if searching for someone. Suddenly, he moved to the back of the shop and Hermione glimpsed a flash of chestnut locks as Draco disappeared with his date.

Her blood boiled as she set her empty mug down with a clatter and marched out of the Leaky Cauldron in a flurry of royal blue.

Outside the atmosphere seemed changed to Hermione. The once pleasantly colorful leaves became garish colors and the nipping wind seemed to intensify. Pulling her cloak tightly around her body, Hermione felt tears flow freely down her face as she bowed her head against the wind and headed blindly down the street.

Wizards and witches yelped in annoyance as she plowed past them, blinded by hurt, rage, and her tears. She didn't stop until her legs gave out from her rapid pace and she collapsed on a bench. She didn't even look up when someone placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"What's wrong Hermione?" asked a familiar voice.

She looked up through her wet lashes and a blurry image of a familiar redhead began to focus.

"I reckon she needs to visit our joke shop," said a second voice.

"Naturally," the first said.

"Fred? George?" she croaked. "What are you guys doing here?"

"No, I'm Gred,"

"And I'm Forge,"

"As for your second question,"

"We work here you see,"

"And we have to be here to work here if you know what I mean,"

Giving the two Weasley twins a weak smile, she mentally berated herself for not picking up gifts for them as well. Immediately, she felt a slight change of weight in her pocket.

Looking at the two, she said gravely, "Send for Ron, Harry, Ginny, and your parents. I need to talk somewhere – at the Burrow."

Looking at her somewhat concerned, Fred set off to find his family members and George helped her up. "I'm fine," she said, brushing him away. "Just confused… and upset."

Casting her a doubtful look, the Weasley twin Apparated to the Burrow and she disappeared with him.

They reappeared in the comfy kitchen of the Burrow and Mrs. Weasley rushed forward to meet the miserable girl. Engulfing Hermione in a large hug, she only released her to exclaim over how tired she looked.

"I'm fine Molly," she said tiredly. "I just need to talk to everyone… I've just found out about something, but I need to give you all some things first."

The Weasleys and Harry sat down at the kitchen table and looked at her dubiously. She sat down in the remaining chair and emptied her pockets of the statues. Silently giving them to each person, she sat back in her chair and waited for their reactions.

"Blimey, Hermione!" exclaimed Ron who received a scathing look from Molly. "It's like you're loaded or something if you're giving us gifts like these for no reason."

Ginny piped up second, "They're beautiful 'Mione, but why…?"

Harry just stared silently at the figurine. Hermione was beginning to suspect that he was the heir of Godric Gryffindor. Nothing shocked him much, and his secret manner suggested that he had been hiding something and wished it to be out and over with.

Fred and George, who had gotten a matching pair of amethyst eyed wolves, looked at her incredulously. "These are solid gold Hermione! How'd you afford them?" they questioned at the same time.

Molly and Arthur both examined their gifts and wordlessly demanded an explanation – any explanation for her mental state and the priceless gifts. Then Ginny exploded when she turned her figurine upside down.

"Hermione! These have the _Ravenclaw Crest_ on them!" she exclaimed.

They all turned their small statues upside down and saw the crest. Suddenly, everyone was trying to stare Hermione down, demanding explanations.

Shedding her cloak, Hermione let the material slip away and expose what she had been trying to cover for an hour or so.

"I am Lady Hermione Jan Granger-Ravenclaw," she said feeling bone-weary. "And I am the heiress to the Ravenclaw fortune."

**Author's Note**

_Eek! Another cliffhanger... I actually didn't intend for this chapter to end as a cliffhanger, but I really really really have to go and practice piano. Sorry! I'll post another chapter as soon as possible to make up for this._

_Hermione's birthday will be covered in the next chapter by the way, and the reason why Hermione didn't mention much about the Malfoy fortune is because she doesn't want it. She'll deal with it later. For now, she has inadvertently cut the Malfoys' access to their vaults off. So basically, they have to live with what Galleons they have with them._

_ersatzxlove: I'm not trying to do cliffhangers, I just keep writing and then I'm cut off by something else I have to do and I just post what I've written. Sorry Emmy. ( Hermione's reaction usually is shock and then acceptance since she's rather distracted._

_autumnxrain: Doesn't having sixty million documents about him in your i-River count as having him trapped in there? Also, Draco doesn't fall in love with her again; he was always in love with her. Seeing her just let his feelings resurface. Also, I'm only writing so much because I don't want to forget my plot ideas. And yes, they'll meet when Hermione's undercover. But not for a while…_


	6. Chapter 5: Temporary Contentment

They stared at her, dumbstruck. Although she noticed that Ron was paying more attention to what was _under_ her robes rather than the actual robes, Hermione didn't bother breaking the tense silence. Crossing her arms under her chest area, she shot a glare at Ron and waited for something –_ anything_!

Harry spoke up next, as she had anticipated earlier. "Er, guys? I have a confession too… 'Mione might be the heiress to the Ravenclaw fortune, but I'm Godric's heir." he choked out. "She just had more courage than me to speak up."

This snapped the Weasley's out of their trance-like state and they all immediately started spluttering disconnected phrases.

"… keeping a secret…"

"… when did this happen?"

"… from us!"

"Blimey! They've got to be loaded…"

"… wonder when they found out…"

"… hiding things from us?"

"Merlin's beard!"

"… been odd lately…"

/-_Stop it!_-/ Hermione all but shouted through her telepathic link.

The Burrow lapsed into an uncomfortable silence with Hermione half out of her chair. The agitated witch's carefully styled hair had been blown askew by the autumn winds and her eyes had a dangerous glint within the normally warm honey color. Hermione Granger was in no mood for any chaos.

"I _just_ found out about this… turn of events this morning. I'm not going to give you any details though……" she trailed off as she shook her head, trying to wash away her thoughts of Draco that morning. "Either way, I just got out of my new vault and such after checking up on some records. I'm tired, hungry, and exhausted from all of the crap I've had to put up with today. If you want an explanation, I'll give you my situation in a nutshell. I'm the heiress to the Ravenclaw fortune – my mother was a witch hiding her true heritage and my father was the first muggle man to marry a direct descendent of Rowena's."

Harry fidgeted nervously as the family of redheads diverted their attention to the raven-haired boy. "I found out about a week ago, under circumstances I'd rather leave out at the moment, and Godric's blood comes from my mother's side," he paused to gauge their reactions before continuing. "She was really the daughter of two Squibs."

Hermione looked around the beaten table wearily. They could clearly see that she had not had a proper night's sleep in many weeks. Bags under her eyes were cleverly concealed by a glamour charm but as she lost her resolve to hold up the spells, the concealment of the marred skin began to wear out.

"Just one question Hermione," said Arthur, locking gazes with the girl he considered to be his second daughter. "What have you been doing these past three years? We haven't heard from you since you graduated."

"Arthur, I'd rather keep my life out of this discussion tonight," she smiled tiredly. "It's a long story and you'd probably be best off if I told you tomorrow."

Rising out of the wooden chair she slipped the cloak back on and strode towards the door. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and she spun on her heel to find herself face-to-face with Molly Weasley.

"Stay here tonight, Hermione," she said kindly. "You can room with Ginny. The whole family – and Harry – is staying tonight."

Shooting a glare at her children, she dared them to protest about the sudden arrangement. Hermione looked around the comfortable wizarding cottage and a sense of peace seeped into her as if she was still a student coming to visit for the summer.

"Thanks mum," she whispered in the motherly woman's ear.

Mrs. Weasley felt tears spring unbidden into her eyes and she gave the brunette a watery smile. "You have no idea what that just meant to me, dear," she said softly. "No idea…"

Pulling Hermione into a warm embrace, she led Hermione up the stairs with the rest of the family trailing behind her.

As she reached the third landing, Ginny was right behind her, looking at her with a rather perturbed expression playing upon her features. Hermione ignored the younger witch's odd expression and entered the room.

Ginny finally spoke up. "Hermione, exactly what is so important about your job? Why do you spend so many sleepless nights on it?" she asked, slightly distracted as she fumbled for the light switch.

Her small hands finally tripped the switch and the room was illuminated in a soft golden glow. The walls were a light lavender color and Ginny had recently redecorated her room with chic furniture and embroidered throw rugs.

The older witch sighed. "Gin, later, I'll tell you when the time is right," she said softly. "I've got so much on my mind right now. I just can't tell you."

Shedding the cloak, she hung it on a peg and her robes were transfigured into a comfy nightgown, although rather revealing. Ginny raised a coppery eyebrow and looked at her with a questioning glance. Hermione looked puzzled and then chuckled slightly.

"One of its charms," she explained. "It changes into whatever kind of clothing you need, but it doesn't change designs or color. If it did, then I wouldn't need any other pieces of clothing and what's the fun in that?"

Slipping into the soft bed, Hermione turned over and made sure that Ginny was in bed before extinguishing the lamplight. Snuggling against the pillow she stared out the window and looked at the dark expanse of sky.

The stars twinkled mockingly down at her, still sparkling with vivid life even having died eons ago. Crystal tears slid down from her honey colored eyes as she watched the celestial bodies sparkle with a life that she had been denied. Her life was something she could not have; something that was not meant to be.

Soon her soft pillow was wet with tears as she cried silently. Sliding her head off of the now uncomfortable pillow, Hermione let her eyelids droop and her wet lashes covered her eyes. Ginny watched and listened as her friend's breathing slowed down and became an even and steady rhythm.

"Another world lies in the realm of dreams," she murmured softly, hoping that Hermione could escape the reality of life in her sleep.

**Next Morning**

An annoyingly shrill voice interrupted a night of peaceful slumber as Hermione buried her head under the pillow that she had forsaken last night. Sunbeams evaded the think lavender curtains and shone softly on her cheek.

"Shhh!"

"Gin, you're hysterical…"

"… never going to wake up…"

"…long day."

"SHUT YOUR TRAPS!"

"…gonna hear you…"

"…spoil…"

Hermione groaned and sat up in bed. Warm cloth instantly transfigured itself back into the elegantly royal blue robes from the day before. Rubbing her eyes she tottered over to the bathroom, emerging minutes later looking only slightly refreshed.

Ginny then chose that moment to come bounding in looking more than slightly hysterical. Seeing that Hermione had already woken up, she flicked her wand a tad too sharply and the bed went flying to the side as the overpowered spell made the bed.

Raising an eyebrow at the frantic redhead who was trying to fix the mess that she'd made, Hermione levitated her bed back into its proper place and sat down at the vanity.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" she asked applying an ever so slight layer of makeup.

"N-n-nothing! Everything's fine! Just great!" Ginny replied, her voice rising higher before squeaking and petering out.

Favoring the younger girl another inquisitive glance, Hermione decided not to prod the moody girl. "D'you reckon I could borrow something of yours to wear?" she asked.

Nodding silently, Ginny went over to her wardrobe and picked out a light periwinkle colored shirt and a skirt, as if she had been prepared for Hermione's request.

Hermione went into the closet to change and emerged wearing a periwinkle décolleté long sleeved shirt and a knee length skirt that had been cut diagonally. Examining her outfit, the brunette made her way back to the vanity and sat down in the plush seat. Gathering her hair together, she conjured up a simple silver chopstick and twisted her hair up into a stylish knot. Holding the chopstick still, Hermione waved her hand in a small circle and held her palm up as the second chopstick appeared. Sticking it in so the silver bars formed an "x" shape, she turned around to see Ginny regarding her with wary eyes.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked tentatively. "Did anyone wake you up early this morning?"

"I slept fine, Ginny," she answered, looking rather curious. "Why?"

"Nothing," she mumbled.

Casting an exasperated glance back at the redheaded girl, she sighed in frustration and exited the room. Making her way down the stairs, Hermione began to smell the delicious scents of a warm country styled breakfast wafting towards her. Jumping down the last few steps, she walked into the kitchen.

"SURPRISE!" shouted the Weasleys and Harry.

Hermione looked at them with a slightly amused expression. "So it was you guys that woke me up this morning wasn't it? And perhaps this is the reason Ginny is up in our room hyperventilating?"

Hugging her friends tightly she laughed. "Thanks guys."

Ron frowned as he processed the last sentence. "Gin isn't upset be-, "he mumbled, rather mystified before Harry elbowed him into silence.

Sitting down to the breakfast Mrs. Weasley had been slaving over Hermione frowned and gave Ron a pointed look. "Enough secrets, why _is_ Ginny so upset? And what is she trying to hide from me?" she asked.

Ron's face turned scarlet and he suddenly found a rather occupying interest in poking the mashed potatoes on his plate. Harry frowned and Mrs. Weasley looked worried as Fred and George exchanged pained looks. Percy, however, decided to speak up.

"It's in today's newspaper if you want to read it," he announced a tad haughtily. "I don't see why everyone sees the need to hide it from you…"

"That's because you haven't read the bloody paper yet, you prat!" chorused Fred and George.

Hermione however, had already snatched the paper and the table lapsed into silence as murderous glares were exchanged. Most eyes were focused on Hermione as her eyes darted back and forth across the newsprint.

**Heiress of Ravenclaw Found; Benevolent Witch or Power-Hungry Politician?**

_By Rita Skeeter_

_As of September 9, twenty-one year old Hermione Granger has officially assumed the title and new surname of Lady Hermione Jane Granger-Ravenclaw. This former Head Girl of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry graduated with top marks in every class. Sorted into the noble House of Gryffindor, this daring young witch braved adventures along with the famed Harry Potter and Ron Weasley starting in the year 1991. _

_She's helped Harry Potter through a series of tests designed by Hogwarts teachers to ensure the safekeeping of the Philosopher's Stone and she's been petrified by a Basilisk in her second year after solving a key part of the mystery. In her fourth year she also saved Buckbeak the hippogriff from an unjust execution and assisted the ex-convict Sirius Black in escaping from the hands of a dementor. In her fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh years she and the rest of the "Golden Trio" have participated in various life-threatening situations in order to thwart the plots of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

_This extraordinary young witch has done much, but who knew that this supposed muggle-born witch was a direct descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw? Sources in the Ministry found out that on the day before her twenty-first birthday, Hermione Granger went about Diagon Alley securing her newfound inheritance and having several hefty withdrawals from the estimated 9,000,000,000 Galleons she is reputed to have inherited._

_A significant donation was made under her name to St. Mungo's that day as well. But was it really just a kind act or was it a ploy to gain power and fame? After three years of graduating from Hogwarts, her job is still very much secret. One can only assume this clever witch has gotten herself involved in politics, a shady field of corruption. _

_So, what are her intentions? With power over the Goblin race due to a blood oath they swore centuries ago, this young woman could mean the death of the Dark Lord or the death of a free Britain._

_See Page H1 for more on evidence that the Heiress is leading a shady life._

_More Associated Topics:_

_Granger being considered as top bachelorette in the wizarding world…_

_Exactly what is she? Pureblood, Half-Blood, or Muggle-born?_

_Quotes from former students in her year: "She was always hungry for control…"_

Hermione put down the Daily Prophet with surprising calm. "So," she said her voice even. "I'm the next Malfoy aren't I? Or at least that's what they're implying…"

Harry put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "They're just rumors or jealousy 'Mione. I should know that the best. They're jealous and afraid because the fortune and titles you inherit give you a high standing in society. They always thought you to be weak both female and muggle-born."

"But I proved them wrong so many times," she whispered, eyes watering as she blinked furiously, refusing to let them fall. "Isn't it enough that I risked my _life_ to save that damned minister in our seventh year?"

"Oh it's alright dear," said Mrs. Weasley in a hurried voice. "Why would you care what the rest of the world thought? It's your birthday honey; you shouldn't worry about this now. Today is _your_ day."

Looking around at the hardened expressions of her friends and the people she considered to be family, she felt her anger seep away to leave sorrow for the people who just _couldn't_ understand. She would worry about the Malfoys and the _Magiae Libra_ another day. Today would be a day devoted to her friends.

"You're right," she said with resolve. "Who's up for some cake?"

Ron cheered loudly and the room exploded into laughter. "What?" he said mock indignantly. "I'm a growing boy!"

Harry snorted. "At this rate you'll be ten feet tall. You _do_ realize that you've been using the same old excuse ever since our what – fourth year?"

Hermione's eyes sparkled playfully as banter ensued. "Yeah Ron, growing sideways now are we?"

"You're still ickle Ronniekins to us," said Fred with a dreamy smile.

"Stay little for our sake Ron," said Molly Weasley shaking with suppressed mirth. "That way you'll catch a girl and won't have to stay a bachelor for life, forever popping in on us to snag a free meal."

Mr. Weasley soon returned with a large rounded three tiered vanilla iced cake. On top of the intricately decorated masterpiece, small flames spelled out "Happy Birthday Mione!"

Fred and George looked absolutely enthralled. "Our new line of products: Flaming Filigree," they said proudly.

Hermione beamed and clasped her hands together childishly, her eyes twinkling with glee. "Oh, it's beautiful, mum!"

Ron looked at her curiously. "Er, 'Mione, only Harry calls my mom mum…" he said rather curiously.

A haunted look flitted across her features and her eyes flickered. "My biological mother died in our seventh year…" she said quietly. "I told Molly and I supposed I just forgot to tell you guys…"

A chilling silence fell over the Burrow and the part atmosphere was successfully darkened. Harry shot Ron a murderous look for being so blunt and hurtful. Ron gave an apologetic look that successfully translated into "How was I supposed to know?"

Ginny walked in on the grave partiers and one look at Hermione told her the whole story. "Um, Ron, did you notice that there's a huge cake sitting _right_ in front of you?" she teased, trying to lighten the mood. "That you haven't eaten yet?"

Ron scoffed. "I need my daily supply of junk food to start off the day," he said rolling his eyes. "I'm a-"

"You're a growing boy," everyone chorused together.

Ron turned red and muttered something unprintable. Molly shot him a scathing look but most were relieved to see that Hermione had lightened up a bit and had joined in on the banter once more.

The rest of the morning passed by without anything much, except the twins couldn't help but make Ron eat a Canary Cream for what he had nearly done to the party. Soon everyone was sitting out on the patio enjoying the cool weather whilst sipping Butterbeer.

"Where do you guys want to open the gifts?" asked Hermione, twirling her wand as golden sparks shot out.

Ron shrugged but Ginny lit up. "Why not go to your flat?" she offered. "So far only Harry and I have seen it."

"Sure," Hermione replied with a smile. "Why not?"

The all gathered at the fireplace to Floo there when Hermione laughed. "You can't Floo to my flat," she explained, a smile playing upon her coral red lips. "Only Ginny, Harry, and I can Apparate there. I've set up wards but I can key specific people in so that they can slide between the spells. However, I have to be on-site to do that so I guess we'll have to have some fun with Side-Along Apparition."

"Why not just connect your fireplace to the Floo Network?" asked an exasperated Ron.

"Unwanted intruders," explained Hermione with an airy tone. "Ok, Molly, Arthur, and Bill come with me. Percy, Charlie, and Ron can go with Harry while Ginny takes Fred and George."

Without a warning Hermione grasped Molly, Arthur, and Bill's wrists and Apparated with a barely audible pop.

Ginny rolled her eyes as Ron goggled. "Does she always do that?" he asked, quite stunned.

"Often enough Ronald," was the reply.

Harry Apparated after Hermione and Ginny followed. They all lurched to a stop in Hermione's living room. Books magically moved out of the way as Hermione expertly maneuvered towards them, keying them in with the wards along the way.

"Wow," breathed Ron. "You _are_ loaded!"

Hermione snickered. "No, my dear Ronald," she said in an overly condescending tone. "I just work a lot."

Muttering a spell under her breath, a pile of presents appeared on her coffee table. Seeing many curious looks, she whispered the vanishing spell and her files and laptop from the day before vanished.

Ignoring the fact that they had been interested in the odd object originally occupying the edge of the coffee table, Hermione selected gifts and began opening the neatly packaged presents.

Twenty minutes and countless rolls of wrapping paper later, Hermione sat back and surveyed what Ron liked to call, her "haul". Charlie had given her a book of Hungarian Horntails while Bill had presented her with a book on the legacy of the Gringotts goblins. The two eldest Weasley brothers didn't know Hermione well enough to get anything personalized. Percy had given her a complete care package for her three owls and the Weasley twins gave her a deluxe package of their wares. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had given her a surprise birthday party that Hermione was touched to learn, had taken two months of planning. (Something they claimed that they couldn't package)

Finally, Harry, Ron, and Ginny had pitched together a massive number of Galleons to purchase an exquisite ball gown for Hermione. It was a golden masterpiece that clung like a second skin and flowed down in graceful ripples, barely touching the floor. Although it was a medieval styled gown, it was a unique designer one that had cost the three a thousand Galleons.

They waited with bated breath as Hermione emerged from the adjoining room, having promised to try it on. She was a vision – a goddess (As Ron said) dressed in spun sunbeams. The low neckline was square and edged in white embroidery. The sleeves hung off of her shoulders and showed off unblemished peachy skin. The bodice clung tightly to her curves and flowed down past her waist like water. Although the embroidery was intricate, the whole gown gave her an air of understated elegance.

Hugging her friends she sighed in contentment as they crowded in her living room silently enjoying each other's company as the sun drew further down in the sky, finally dipping the blue expanse into an inkwell of rich red and orange hues.

**Author's Note**

No cliffhanger! Woohoo:pats herself on her back: I'm so proud of myself! Alright, the newspaper article didn't turn out too well, and I didn't go into too much detail about the presents. I just wasn't in the mood. Sorry guys.

Anyhow, I didn't really exactly _love_ how this chapter turned out, but I was trying to finish up this chapter before I got started on reading fanfiction myself. :shrugs: All's fair in love, war, and writing. Enjoy!

autumnxrain – How long does it take to write my standard chapter? Hmm, I'd have to time myself to figure that one out. It really depends on how much inspiration I'm working with and whether or not I get sidetracked. Griphook? Wow Kathleen, you _are_… odd.

mysteriouscharm – She's the heiress really, but who cares? Tell me if you liked this chapter, it was a bit rushed I must admit. :frowns:

Domonique Vida – Yes, I really love playing the piano. I've been at it for 8 years and nowadays my teacher just gives me pieces. If I don't like it, she gives me another that she thinks I'll like but it's always harder than the one I ditched. And you're welcome, I love my reviewers and I love writing.

XOXOXO to all of my reviewers!

décolleté – a low cut strapless shirt/dress that hangs off your shoulders


	7. Chapter 6: Nighttime Reflections

In order to catch dinner, Hermione, Harry, and the Weasleys began preparing for the meal halfway through the beautiful sunset. With the aid of magic, Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and Ginny soon exited the kitchen laden with plates of roast potatoes, shepherd's pie, and some roast beef. It was a simple but hearty meal made in the spirit of family and friends, and that was all that they needed.

Ron grinned at the sight of the platters laden with food and, surprisingly enough, was the first to dig into the food. His family and friends were used to his voracious appetite, but as usual, banter ensued over his systematic shoveling of food into his mouth.

Hermione grinned as her usually somber and fashionable dining room lit up with a certain kind of glow that only family and friends could contribute to the atmosphere. It was like the Weasleys could bring a small part of the homey Burrow with them and share it with deserving people. Of course it wasn't the same without your own family to revel in the happiness, but things got pretty close to it.

Digging into her plate loaded down with a generous slice of pie and roast potatoes, Hermione seemed as if she were still a child enjoying dinner with her family. No one could replace her parents, but Molly and Arthur were like close family who had stepped in for a visit that would last forever.

Harry had noticed the switch from a refined young woman into an enthusiastic child but didn't say a word. Hermione hadn't been with them for years, and only Merlin knew how she had been coping with her losses alone.

Eating dinner with the Weasleys was like being in the middle of a food fight where bowls were being passes amongst the participants so quickly; it seemed as if they were flying. A platter full of rolls whizzed by in front of Hermione and she quickly snagged one before Ron got a hold of it.

But like all food fights, the excitement dies down and waits for something new to do. As the Weasley women and Hermione got up to fetch the desserts, the rest of the diners quickly lapsed into a less chaotic conversation about – surprise! – Quidditch.

"It's a wonder that Ron is still supporting the Cannons," mused Ginny, mirth sparkling in her eyes.

"It's a wonder his table manners haven't improved all these years," retorted Hermione, a wry smile upon her face. "Only Merlin knows how he manages to attract so many women."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Ginny replied mischievously. "He can be very… suave when he wants to. He takes the girls on dates to the movies and when they have dinner together, he manages to stay together while eating civil amounts."

Hermione snorted. "I guess he heads home to stuff his face since he didn't have enough to eat afterwards," she smirked playfully.

Feigning innocence Ginny smiled, "Ickle Ronniekins _never_ eats that much!"

Punching Ginny playfully in the arm as she'd seen Ron and Harry do years before, Hermione levitated a freshly baked cake out of the oven. Icing poured out of the tip of her wand as she covered the yellow cake in a generous layer of creamy white icing. Quickly piping on several flowery designs, Hermione sat down at the kitchen counter as Ginny torched her crème brülée.

Mrs. Weasley fished a berry pie out of the oven and smiled as she saw the two girls working on their sweet masterpieces. "Honey, that's beautiful," she said admiring the designs on the cake. "Your cooking has certainly improved over these past few years."

Hermione smiled. "Skill arises from need," she said lightly.

Ginny cut off the heating spell with a quick _Finite_ and carried the plate off towards the dining room with Mrs. Weasley and Hermione following suit. The Weasley men cheered at the sight of their favorite desserts while Harry stood and pecked Ginny on the seat while relieving her of the sweet pudding.

"It looks beautiful Gin," he said, setting the platter down while banishing the old plates into the sink.

The pie and cake automatically were showered by additional comments as they took their places next to the pudding in the newly cleared space. Everyone was soon supplied with a small dessert plate and offered a slice of each sweet.

Cramming their already full stomachs with food satisfied the moods of many as they cleared the table and set about cleaning the kitchen and dining room. Even though Mrs. Weasley looked rather put out, Hermione insisted that magical cleaning was good enough for her.

As her guests gathered to leave her apartment, Hermione stopped them. "Now, you wouldn't think that I'd let your invitation yesterday go without payment would you?" she asked, eyes twinkling. "I'd like you all to stay here tonight."

Looking rather dubious, Mrs. Weasley tried to shake off the kind offer, but Arthur accepted readily. "We need to spend more quality time together," he explained to his slightly shocked wife, "seeing as we've missed out on three years."

Hermione laughed and showed them her three guest bedrooms. Graciously offering her own room to the Weasley parents, she insisted that she'd be most comfortable in her living room. Relenting due to the lateness of the situation, Hermione quickly transfigured several tables into bed frames and pillows became mattresses while she conjured several fluffy looking comforters.

Three rooms decked out in Gryffindor gold were provided for the Weasley clan. Ginny got the smallest room to herself while Harry, Ron, and the Weasley twins got the second smallest of the three. Bill, Charlie, and Percy were given the largest room in the light of the fact that they were the eldest of bunch.

Hermione retired to an armchair, but shortly after midnight, she slipped on a pair of glasses that would help her focus and picked up her laptop after summoning her files back.

Reading the w-mail she had briefly glanced at two days ago, Hermione was a little surprised to find another message that had been sent only hours before retracting the offer.

Calling up several windows, she did a quick background search on Project MF and flipped through her files. According to her notes, the company was proud; they would never recall an offer unless something prevented them from carrying it out. She frowned and pushed her glasses back up her nose.

Her fingers flew over the keys as she typed "Acronym 'MF'" and sent off a search for it. Five entries were returned moments later and the list read:

_Five Possibilities for Acronym "MF"_

_Matilda's Factory_

_Magical Franchise_

_Main Filtration_

_Managing the Future_

_Malfoy Fortune_

Whenever she had tried to decipher acronyms in the past, there were usually too many possibilities. Now, her breath hitched at the last entry as her head swam with ideas. Could this really be an attempt to snag the entire Malfoy Fortune? Could they have retracted the offer because she now owned the fortune? What did the company want with the Malfoys? Was there something going on that she didn't know about? Exactly how much was the company hiding from her?

The last question hung like an ominous cloud, shadowing all other possible thought. She nearly screamed in frustration. It was obvious now that she was privy only to small parts of information, most likely because she was a mysterious figure, even to her employers.

Head pounding in confusion, Hermione barely heard the tapping on the window of her living room. Outside was her beloved owl Artemis. Quickly, she set the laptop down on the coffee table and made her way towards the pane of glass, muttering a spell to banish it.

Artemis flapped her wings tiredly and gave a small hoot of affection while extending her talons to reveal a familiar scroll. Sending her owl back to the Owlery for a well-deserved rest, Hermione sat back down at her armchair and examined the delivery.

The elaborate seal was obvious Ducis Dux's and she deftly slit the wax and unrolled the parchment. The same spindly writing covered the yellowed surface.

_Dear Miss Hermione Granger,_

_We at the Wizarding Research Foundation for Incurable Magical Maladies _– Here Hermione smiled in amusement at the dreadfully familiar heading – _are pleased to know of your acceptance. A proper location for this event has been set and you are due to meet your partner – the owner of the premises – this weekend at the future location of the charity ball. _

_Please be prompt as the meeting is scheduled to be at 12 o' clock noontime on the coming Saturday. This meeting can run as long as you need and will be the only meeting we shall be scheduling. Additional time shall be scheduled at your own times. The coordinates of your meeting spot are provided in this memory scroll spelled to the parchment. The password to the sticking charm is _Manipulate

_The best of luck,_

_Ducis Dux_

She dispelled the charm with the password and a small crystal tumbled down into her hands. Etched upon the surface was the coordinate (1754, 1991). Below the numbers was a smaller message that read _Point of Origin: Wizarding Research Foundation for Incurable Magical Maladies Center_.

Setting both the crystal and letter down, Hermione picked up the laptop and set it in her lap once more. She would worry about getting together a file for the charity ball later, at the moment Project MF was crashing down on her ears. She couldn't tell anyone about her right to the Malfoy Fortune because with a family like the Malfoys, a lot of strings could be attached to their gold.

Summoning her quill and a fresh sheet of parchment, Hermione wrote out a letter to her boss, Richard Forza.

_Project MF is down, they have retracted all offers. I know why, but the situation is testy and I cannot bring it up for another few weeks or so. I also know the identity of Project MF – Project Malfoy Fortune. Please do not preserve anonymity when it comes to me in the future, knowing the identity is the only reason why I know why they have retracted their offer._

_Hermione Granger_

Whistling in a low tone, Diana, her snowy owl flew out of the Owlery and landed on Hermione's outstretched arm. Taking out her old seal, she contemplated sealing the letter with the Ravenclaw seal but automatically crushed the idea. Tying her message to the owl's talons with a ribbon, she directed her owl to deliver the message to Richard Forza.

Flying out the area that had been left uncovered when Hermione had banished the window pane, Diana set off into the night and was swallowed up by the darkness is just minutes after departing. Sighing, Hermione shivered slightly from the cold, only wearing a slightly sheer nightgown, she replaced the glass and went back to her armchair.

Setting down the now useless file, she waved her wand over the sleek silver laptop and it flickered as its magical power source was cut off. Grabbing a rare edition of _Nature's Nobility; A Wizarding Genealogy_ off of a pile lying next to her armchair, Hermione flipped through the thick book fruitlessly searching for a timeline that would date back to the rest of the Founders.

It was 5 o' clock a.m. before she had found what she was looking for – a list of living descendants of Salazaar Slytherin. The introduction read:

_Erpeto Paidia, Children of the Serpent, are known to have the cunning and ambition of Slytherin within their veins. Not only that, they are gifted in the lost skill of Anakalpsi and are privileged to be able to enter the domain of Salazaar without sustaining injury. They are able to read the ancient texts of Slytherin as well and when they are able to contact an Erpeto Apogonos, Descendant of the Serpent, their power is unrivaled._

_Behold, the all-powerful Erpeto Paidia that are living today are:_

_Tom Riddle_

_Draco Malfoy_

_Their minions that are linked to the Erpeto Paidia, the Erpeto Apogonos are:_

_Severus Austerus Snape_

_Matilda Auctorita Moon_

Suddenly Hermione snapped the book shut as the names hit her with a towering force. Throughout history, legends had often surfaced in small hamlets throughout Great Britain about a secret sanctuary that Salazaar had retreated to in his final years. It was rumored that only Erpeto Paidia could access the fortress and when they went through extremes to do so, they could obtain great power and artifacts.

She shivered slightly as if a breeze had hit her and a twinge of uneasiness began to bother her. So far Voldemort had not gained access to the fortress – that she knew. He would need to enlist the help of Professor Snape and Matilda Moon, whoever she was. But Draco could access it as well, unless someone tried to stop him. That someone could, and would, be Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Her mind worked frantically as she hastily summoned her writing supplies and tried to pen out a letter. Trembling fingers set the eagle quill down on the parchment but Hermione couldn't squeeze a single word out of it. She was stuck; torn between her past and the present. Did he already know? Would he treat her coldly after she had deduced his possible death? Could she try to save someone who had killed her heart three years ago?

Banishing the parchment and quill that she had summoned just moments before, Hermione felt hot tears of rage tumble down her cheeks. She was acting like a child, letting old hurts get in the way of saving another innocent's life. She had probably hurt him as well, and he had gotten over it in a flash. Why couldn't she let go of Draco Malfoy?

Hugging her knees to herself, she silently cried into the soft blue fabric of her nightdress, rocking herself into a restless slumber.

Just rooms away, a raven haired boy sat up in his transfigured bed staring out the window at the illuminating full moon. His clothes was rumpled but not yet creased after a long sleep. Harry could hear the distinct snore of Ron rumbling from his left while the twins mumbled in their sleep to his right.

His mind was working furiously as he tried to block out the rumbling of his best mate's deep sleep, turning over the events of the past few days. He had mastered Occulemcy shortly after returning to Hogwarts for his seventh year so the possibility of intrusion was long forgotten.

_He was sitting at a small circular table with three other Aurors – Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, and a former schoolmate, Neville Longbottom. He had been a late bloomer alright, but Neville's work had soon improved after replacing his father's inadequate wand which had been broken year before at the Department of Mysteries. _

_Ex-Auror Mad-Eye Moody paced around in the small, cramped room muttering fiercely as his magical eye twirled sickeningly quickly as he scanned the surroundings for intruders and eavesdroppers. Finally, as he completed the scan, Moody came to a halt in front of the Aurors._

_They weren't any ordinary Aurors however; each and every person in the room was a fully fledged member of the Order of the Phoenix, a renegade band of wizards and witches pitched against the Dark Lord and his supporters. Although the organization was working against Voldemort, it was still considered an illegal operation considering the laws it broke in order to gain ground in the war._

"_Longbottom!" barked the vigilant Ex-Auror. "Are there any reports on your examination of the rumors of Death Eater sightings in Northern Wales?"_

_The once chubby Hogwarts student shook his head as he continued to scan Ministry reports on various unsuccessful Death Eater raids._

_Harry had taken half of Neville's pile of reports and was scanning them himself when Moody barked out his name. "Potter!" he said in an increasingly frustrated tone. "Have you been able to retrieve any new information on the Erpeto Pyrgos?"_

_The young man looked up tiredly at the older wizard and set down his papers carefully. "No, not exactly, but I have an idea of where I can _find_ information," he said slowly._

_Mad-Eye's magical eye swiveled furiously as the Auror rounded on Harry. "Tell me boy," he said excitedly. "Where can you find it?"_

_Harry looked rather testy as he continued. "You know of someone named Hermione Granger, correct?" he asked._

"_Everyone here knows her Potter!" Moody said with a sigh. "Are you going to tell us or not?"_

"_Well, no one has seen much or heard from her since our graduation," he began. "But if I know Hermione, she probably knows much more about the Castle of the Serpent than any obscure reference."_

"_Do you know where she lives now?" interrupted the blonde haired Auror, Nymphadora Tonks, known only by her surname Tonks._

_Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes a little while yawning. Shooting a dark glance at Moody whom had scheduled the meeting at 4 a.m. Harry said, "Yes but not exactly. She lives at the Sunset Flats building. She owns the penthouse and the building is in upper-class portion of Wizarding Britain."_

_Moody took the unoccupied seat next to Neville and pressed Harry for more details. "Are you sure that's all you know?" he asked. "Do you know where she works? How can we contact her?"_

_Sparkling green orbs fixed on Moody's misshapen face as Harry looked rather incredulously at the Ex-Auror. "No one knows what she's doing, Alastor. She's a mystery, and enigma. No one has heard from her since three years ago. I don't know how she can afford a penthouse and not work, or work in an obscure position, but she does it. We can't contact her either, unless she wants us to. Ginny has tried, but apparently she's muffled her magical aura so that people not keyed into the spell cannot send her owls."_

_Mad-Eye growled in frustration and swiveled around to face Neville. "Have you heard from her, boy?" he asked rather impatiently. "Has anyone heard from her?"_

_Harry's mouth curved into a slight smile as he watched the raging Ex-Auror demand for an answer that could not be had. "I told you already, Moody, if Hermione doesn't want to be found, she won't be found. There are at least five 'Sunset Flats' around here, and she may be masquerading under a secret identity."_

_Grumbling about a witch being "too smart for her own good", Moody stalked out of the small room, dismissing the rather amused Aurors._

In the end, Molly Weasley had unknowingly exposed the location of Hermione when she received a rather short letter from the young woman telling her to visit whenever possible.

Harry laid back down on the fluffy mattress as he tried to sort out his thoughts. He had to get the information from Hermione, but he couldn't do it without feeling guilty. After three years of separation, he and Ron should be catching up on old times, not trying to pump her for information that the Ministry needed.

Turning over on his side, Harry thought he could hear someone crying from far away. Dismissing the sound as the howling wind, he snuggled into his covers and tried to sleep. All problems that he had would have to wait until tomorrow morning.

**The Next Morning – 5:00 A.M.**

Hermione awoke to the insistent tapping of the morning _Daily Prophet _owl. Scowling slightly, she vaguely noted to herself to tell the newspaper company to send her issue at a later time, Hermione hauled herself off the armchair, stretching as she made her way towards the window.

She had fallen asleep in a rather uncomfortable fashion, so Hermione deposited a small amount of Sickles into the owl's leather pouch and set the newspaper down on the coffee table as she summoned some robes from her room.

Checking the monitoring charms in the bedrooms, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief to see that all of her guests were still asleep. Changing into the autumn auburn colored robes edged in gold trim, Hermione Apparated silently into her bathroom. Casting a quick silencing charm on the door, the witch quickly cleaned up and applied some lip gloss and foundation.

Apparating into her kitchen, Hermione hummed quietly as she took out a mug from an overheard kitchen cabinet and filled it with freshly brewed coffee. Opening a drawer, she took out a square shaped package wrapped in waxed paper and took a heated knife from her silverware compartment.

Unwrapping the shiny paper, Hermione deftly sliced off a chunk of golden brown caramel and added it to her coffee. Stirring her coffee while adding in cream and sugar, she out away the sticky sweet and shut the drawer.

Summoning the _Daily Prophet_ from the living room where she had left it, Hermione unfolded the newspaper while slipping into a chair at the kitchen counter. She hesitated as she fingers grazed the newsprint as vivid memories of what she had read the previous morning surfaced in her mind.

As she was contemplating whether or not to read the _Prophet_, Harry stumbled in looking rather bleary in bottle green robes. Even though he had taken a quick shower with dripping wet hair as evidence, Hermione could see that Harry still wasn't a morning person.

"Morning Harry," she said sipping her coffee. "Want some coffee? I make it with my own recipe, it's quite good. Even better than the stuff I gave you the last time you visited."

He nodded and flashed a quick smile of thanks as he sank into a chair, cradling his head in his hands as he yawned. "Still not a morning person, Auror Harry?" she jibed playfully. "I thought that Aurors had to be 'constantly vigilant'."

Peeking through his fingers, Harry immediately recognized the old joke about Moody. "Course not," he said in imitation of Tonks. "That's just the bloody Mad-Eye."

Hermione smiled as she turned around to face him, a mug of coffee in her hands. Sliding the drink over to Harry she examined him with an amused expression.

"Drink up," she ordered. "It's better than Firewhiskey."

A tingling sensation sped through Harry's lethargic form as the aromatic scent and taste of coffee met him. Hints of smooth creamy caramel had been gently woven in with rich cream and a lump of sugar. His eyes widened in shock and appreciation as he took another mouthful of the delightful drink.

"It's brilliant Hermione," he said rather gratefully, feeling more awake already. "I never knew your culinary skills improved _that_ much."

The comment reminded her of what Mrs. Weasley had said the night before but Hermione squashed the fact that it was her fault that they hadn't seen her for so long.

"Sorry," she said rather abruptly.

Harry raised an eyebrow as he drained his cup. "What for?" he asked.

Hermione looked rather tense. "For… for everything," she managed to say. "For isolating myself, for keeping so many secrets, and for being such a bad friend."

Harry gave a queer look. "We don't blame you for anything 'Mione," he said. "You needed your space and we weren't giving you much. Sometimes it's best to take things into your own hands."

"So you're not mad at me?" she asked tentatively. "I was so sure that you'd all give me a piece of your mind for practically abandoning you."

"No," he said looking rather amused.

Hermione's lips formed a small "o" shape as she realized that these people were practically family and were just happy to hear from her again. Taking another mouthful from her own cup, Hermione prepared another mug of her coffee for Harry who had finished it in a record time.

"'Mione?" began Harry. "I have a small favor to ask of you…"

"Yes?" she replied rather distracted as she sliced off a chunk of the creamy caramel sweet to put in Harry's drink.

"What can you tell me about the Erpeto Pyrgos?" he asked.

She froze slightly and the only noise that could be heard in the kitchen was a small "plop" as a lump of sugar deposited itself into the coffee.

Turning around rather abruptly, Hermione stirred the sugar in and handed the mug to Harry who accepted it without taking his eyes off of her expressionless face. "What do you want to know about the Castle of the Serpent?" she finally asked.

Harry shrugged a bit too nonchalantly. "Nothing specifically," he replied carefully.

Seeing Hermione's skeptical look, Harry realized that it was fruitless to hide anything from her calculating mind. "Fine, I need to know everything that you know about it," he said.

"Why?" Hermione persisted. From the guarded look in his eyes, she knew that it was bound to be bad news.

"Because we suspect Voldemort is trying to gain access to it," relented Harry. "We intercepted a message that says _Erpeto Pyrgos… access… deadline Christmas._"

Hermione's analytical mind immediately drew an inference from the disconnected phrases. "Oh Merlin," she breathed. "He's going to unlock the forgotten power of Salazaar Slytherin."

**Author's Note**

_I must say I like this chapter pretty much, and I assure you the next chapter will be posted pretty soon. I've got a pretty good idea of what I want to write. In Chapter Seven we will meet Draco once more :winkwink: and we even might hear more about Hermione's secret job. Exactly what does she do?_

_Also, I'm not too jubilant about getting two reviews but I guess I'll live. Remember, the more reviews I get, the harder I work to post the next chapter!_

_autumnxrain – And let people flame me with several choice words that are rather unprintable? I think not. o-o_

_mysteriouscharm – Yes, I really liked it too. Hermione will appear in it perhaps in the next chapter or the chapter after that._

_Read and review guys! _

_Until the next chapter,_

_Tiffany_


	8. Chapter 7: Snapping Tempers

Harry nodded rather tiredly, despite having downed two mugs of coffee. "He's figured out part of the riddle," Harry explained. "But he can't do anything more until he can find two willing Erpeto Apogonos to assist him. Then he has to locate a certain tome that will provide him with the entire riddle."

Hermione massaged her temples at the kitchen counter like she had done just days before. Minutes ticked by slowly as she dug up all of the information she had accumulated on the tricky subject.

Looking up at Harry she saw that he was still regarding her with a calculated look, but unmasked hope shone in his eyes. She truly was their last resort. "The Castle of the Serpent is the fortress of Salazaar Slytherin," she said finally. "And the last known residence of the Hogwarts Founder. According to multiple consultations to myths and tales recorded down through the ages, it was there where Slytherin made his last 'gifts' to the wizarding world. It is said that the fortress is impenetrable, Unplottable, and impossible to access unless you are an Erpeto Paidia, Child of the Serpent, and have the willing support of two Erpeto Apogonos, Descendants of the Serpent. I won't differentiate the two for now, but the Erpeto Pyrgos is basically a treasure trove of Salazaar's inventions. Dark artifacts and the legendary power of Slytherin await one strong enough and worthy of unleashing the potential of the Erpeto Pyrgos."

"So, in a nutshell, he's going to gain more power and resources to conquer the wizarding world if he succeeds."

"Ah, but 'if' is the key word there," Hermione reminded him in a light tone.

"Who are the Erpeto Apogonos?" he asked finally after a minute of silence.

"Who do you think?" she asked in a deceptively calm voice.

Harry groaned at the first and most likely possibility that came to mind. "No – It can't be Snape can it?"

Hermione nodded and swirled the creamy brown liquid around in her ceramic mug as she replied. "The only other Apogonos is one Matilda Auctorita Moon, and before you ask, I have no knowledge of anyone with the surname 'Moon'."

He frowned as he mulled over the possibilities. It could be possible that Matilda would be swayed into helping Voldemort, but Snape was rather a wildcard wasn't he? Although Dumbledore trusted him, Harry still had not found a tangible reason to trust a certain Severus Snape.

Hermione gave him a crooked grin as she saw her friend's flickering expression. "As usual, you're over thinking the wrong train of ideas," she said calmly. "I know you hate riddles, but what other path is there to take?"

"Can't you stop speaking in riddles? I thought that this situation was serious enough to warrant normal speech" he saidd, rather frustrated.

"It's a habit Harry," she explained patiently. "It has something to do with my… alter ego. That's something I'll explain to everyone at breakfast."

The young Auror barely registered her explanation and stored her words away in the back of his mind for later. What could they do that didn't concern the Apogonos? They were the key to the fortress and he could only try and stop someone with the potential to unleash Slytherin's power. A light bulb automatically went off in his head at the last thought.

"Hermione," he said in an excited voice. "Who are the other Paidia?"

She gave him an approving smile. "Mulling over things in a different way doesn't hurt sometimes," she said with a wink. "But anyway, I can only tell you that there is only one other Erpeto Paidia. It's not in my place to reveal who it is. It's considered rather rude to reveal someone other than yourself's standing to another."

Too tired to bicker with Hermione in the morning Harry mulled over her words as she got up to make more coffee and it hit him. He had guessed who a possible Erpeto Apogonos was, so who could be an Erpeto Paidia?

"It's Draco isn't it?" he asked tentatively. "That back-stabbing…"

Handing Harry a fresh mug of coffee Hermione sat down once more. "Yes," she said her voice barely wavering. "He is the only other Erpeto Paidia."

He could've sworn that a flicker of new emotion had crossed her large honey-brown orbs. Sadness was obvious, but Harry caught sight of a flash of… regret?

His hand automatically rose up and touched her shoulder comfortingly but as he began to withdraw his hand he felt a tingling sensation in his fingertips as if a cold fire were playing on his skin. Raising an eyebrow at Hermione, she mouthed 'Later.'

Before he could demand an answer, Ginny came in wearing a simple muggle outfit with a thin green jacket on. Her hair had been tied up in a high ponytail and her eyes were sparkling with anger.

"Hermione Jane Granger!" she exclaimed with a smoldering expression.

Hermione looked rather amused as Harry quirked yet another questioning eyebrow at her. "She found out," she whispered. "You'll see in a moment."

"How could you?" ranted Ginny, oblivious to their whispering. "You could have conjured beds but you _had_ to go and transfigure them! How much energy did you spend holding up those spells all night? I know how much concentration it takes to maintain them Hermione, so don't even _try_ denying it!"

Ron stumbled into the kitchen as Ginny paused mid-rant and turned her attention to her bleary looking brother. "You!" she shrieked, practically hysterical. "You probably didn't notice it you thick-headed prat! You knew she transfigured the furniture and you actually had the gall to accept it! We were all taught the rule in our seventh year; _never try to hold up various household item enchantments for over two hours!_"

It was the cardinal rule of Transfiguration that was taught to children all around the globe as soon as they were in their seventh years, ready to start their own lives. But Merlin had a basic idea in mind when he had set up the rule. It was to keep artisans in business because normal wizards and witches wouldn't have the power to transfigure furniture permanently.

Finally giving up on Ron who was only half-awake and acknowledging only a portion of her rant, Ginny turned back to Hermione. "Why?" she screeched sounding much like Mrs. Weasley. "Why would you use that much power in exchange for our comfort? You slept in an armchair for Merlin's sake!"

"First off, the most comfortable bed is transfigured from a pillow, and secondly, you're the closest thing I have as family and you don't exactly tell your brothers and sisters to sleep in a log do you?" she replied with an amused expression.

The silence that her offhanded remark struck the kitchen in a heavy silence leaving them to contemplate her remark about them being almost family. Hermione took advantage of the awkward silence to prepare mugs of coffee for Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys that were headed towards the kitchen.

Handing the steaming mug to Ron and Ginny, Hermione loaded a tray with the rest of the mugs and met Mrs. and Mr. Weasley in the living room greeting them and directing them towards the dining room with a fresh mug of coffee. Doing the same for the other Weasley brothers, she shooed Harry, Ginny, and Ron out of the kitchen.

Harry felt a slight change of weight in his pocket and saw that Hermione had slipped the original manuscript of _Nature's Nobility; A Wizarding Genealogy_. A soft leather bookmark had been placed gently between the thin pages. Promising himself that he'd look at it as soon as possible, Harry continued on to the dining room, arm entwined with Ginny's.

Just ten minutes after the Weasleys and Harry had settled down in the dining room and begun to enjoy a conversation about the possibilities of Thanksgiving dinner together, Hermione entered the room laden down with plates heaped up with English muffins, scrambled eggs, fried eggs, toast, sausage links, waffles, pancakes, and all sorts of country breakfast goodies. Pitchers of her homemade coffee and various pumpkin juices trailed behind her, and were quickly welcomed by the Weasley twins.

Although the conversation didn't skip a beat, compliments were showered upon Hermione's cooking skills and even Mrs. Weasley bestowed one upon the young woman. Harry, however, was plotting to change the topic but soon his patience wore thin and he decided to just ask.

"You owe us an explanation 'Mione," he said. "It'd be nice if we could have it."

Seeing his serious expression Hermione didn't resist, knowing fully well that she _did_ deserve to give them some sort of explanation. Bound by her word, she fidgeted slightly before beginning.

"I hold two positions at the WWIA, Worldwide Wizarding Intelligence Agency," she said. "One position is in its business branch and one is in its missions section. So I am an undercover agent for the WWIA and also am responsible for investing in other companies and buying others that have the potential to succeed."

Percy looked absolutely scandalized. "Everyone knows that the WWIA is nonexistent," he sniffed pompously.

Hermione gave the stuffy Weasley brother a wry smile. "Ah, but that's where you are wrong Percy. In reality, the WWIA is the real government whilst the Ministry of Magic is simply its puppet. In order to preserve anonymity, the Ministry was created centuries back to carry out the bidding of the WWIA," she explained.

"Now Percy here is proof that the initial plan worked, but the only flaw in the whole idea was that the WWIA couldn't just take Galleons from the Ministry. Each new Minister resented the fact that they were not really the most powerful figure in the wizarding world and eventually made it harder for the WWIA to get any funding at all," she said. "Thus the business branch was created. Now the WWIA runs on the money that is gained from various investments and affiliations."

"But what does the WWIA do?" interjected Mr. Weasley.

"The WWIA gathers information on everything related to the magical world and archives it in a vault that can only be accessed by the Head. Now, the main goal of the WWIA is to keep the wizarding world from being found out by muggles and to keep dark wizards at bay. This is where all those files come in handy. Using all the information accumulated about prophecies, stories, and life records, the WWIA has had a hand in bringing down multiple Dark Lords. The only problem about Voldemort is that they _can't_ defeat him. All they can do is attempt to assist Harry in his mission."

All eyes turned to Harry who shifted rather uncomfortably under their questioning gazes. "Alright 'Mione," he muttered. "No need to get all melodramatic. I know of the WWIA's existence and they've been trying to help me for the past three years. I just never knew that Hermione worked for them."

Percy had his wand out as he trembled in rage, green eyes flashing. "How… _dare_ you…"

"_Wait,_" Hermione thought. "_Percy doesn't have green eyes!_"

"_Avad-,_" he began.

Without thinking further, her hand flew up and out of her billowy robe sleeves and it began glowing an almost transparent color. Out of the corner of her eye saw a red jet of light streaking towards Percy from the direction of Harry's seat. Cursing under her breath, she abandoned the original spell and considered the Stunning Spell Harry had just cast.

"_Obrigui veneficium!_" she said quickly.

The transparent magic concentrated its power in the middle of her palm and was unleashed by the incantation. The _Stupefy_ spell as well as Hermione's own freezing charm hit Percy at the same time and clashed to create a massive disarming and freezing spell.

But the magical resonance of the two combined spells caused the air around Percy to ripple slightly as if it were water, trying to get rid of the excess energy that could not be channeled through a mere mortal. A blinding flash was the result of the buildup, but it slowly dissipated almost as quickly as it had appeared.

"Merlin's Beard," breathed Ron.

He was voicing the opinion of everyone in the room except for Harry and Hermione. They looked upon the shocking scene with a sense of grim approval. Hermione had obviously chosen the spell after seeing Harry's initial reaction to Percy's unusual eyes so the result had almost been expected to them.

Looking rather grim but unrepentant Hermione addressed the Weasley family as a whole. "It wasn't Percy," she said with a frown.

Holding her palm up once more, the magic shimmered and danced, waiting for its mistress to speak an incantation. "_Acclaro Faciet Fidus," _she intoned, concentrating the magic once more.

The combined spell had frozen Percy with his wand drawn and a jet of green light shooting towards Hermione. Her spell had caused a reaction where it seemed as if a torrent of water had poured upon the young man, effectively nullifying the effects of any magic that he was casting.

Her Identity Revealing Spell was taking place as they all regarded the frozen form with apprehension. Percy's angular features were melting away and being replaced with an unfamiliar face.

Harry looked rather curious as the stranger's true identity was revealed and rapped the table with his fingers. "Interesting…" he murmured.

"Cut the dramatics off for a moment will you Potter?" she mock-drawled.

"It's interesting though," he retorted. "But rather disturbing, assuming that you've come to the same conclusion as I have."

A pensive silence followed the exchange and the Weasleys knew that there was unsaid information between the two friends. Mrs. Weasley had fainted in shock at the beginning of the _Avada Kedavra _incantation and had been taken to Hermione's room by Mr. Weasley.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" demanded Ron.

Ginny's eyes narrowed at her thick brother as both Hermione and Harry snapped out of a trance. "They were thinking, you prat!" she hissed.

Hermione looked rather startled while Harry remained somewhat unperturbed. "He's an assassin," supplied Hermione at last. "Sent to extract information about my job and the WWIA's workings, and then he probably had orders to kill me."

"Ah, but that doesn't explain why neither you nor Harry are remotely concerned," interrupted Bill. "I don't know about you all, but also I think that Hermione owes us yet another explanation for those spells she's used. I'm a curse breaker and even _I_ haven't seen anything remotely like what she's just done."

Harry smirked in obvious amusement. "I would have thought someone would have noticed," he said. "Our 'Percy' here has been daft enough to cast a spell. Thanks to Hermione's strange little trick, we can now examine his magical aura through the frozen spell and use her muggle laptop to do background research on him."

"And our explanation…" asked Bill rather curiously.

Hermione's face scrunched up in false disgust. "What is with you people and explanations?" she asked, laughing. "It seems like a girl just can't keep her secrets around here."

"The explanation," Ginny reminded her.

Pouting Hermione motioned for them to follow her into the living room. Banishing the dishes back into the kitchen, she made herself comfortable in the armchair she had occupied last night. Waiting for everyone to find a seat, Hermione saw Ginny perch at her side, motioning for her to begin.

"Those spells I used today are ones that are personalized," she explained, ignoring Bill's muttering. "That means that only I can use them and only I or someone I have willingly and gladly given permission to, can reverse its operation or effects."

"Why?" asked Bill, unable to contain himself. "Why use a personalized spell? Did you modify an already existing spell or…"

"Or did I create the spell," finished Hermione.

Bill was about to protest but was silenced by Harry. "It's not impossible, Bill," he said. "I've done it before. After all, spells aren't just given to us by the gods."

"There are three ways to end up with a new spell," started Hermione, slipping into a teaching mode. "One can create a spell using Ancient Runes and finding the connection between the runes and drawing it out. The incantation is used to seal the spell's power and direct its force. You can also personalize a spell to your own specifications and magical aura. To personalize a spell, you usually work off of a normal spell and personalization allows only you to reverse the effects of the personalized spell. Finally, you can modify a spell like what Fred and George do for their prank materials. When you modify a spell, usually bits and pieces are added to the incantation in various ways in order to slightly alter the effects of the spell."

"Hermione, when we modify spells," began Fred.

"We don't get anything remotely near to what you've done," finished George.

"That depends on the power of the witch or wizard," Hermione said smoothly. "Their power determines their limitations. Now, may I please deal with the assassin in my dining room?"

Surprised by her nonchalant tone, Hermione was sure to take advantage of their silence and slip away. Entering the dining room, she saw that the curse hadn't worn off yet. With a sigh she conjured up reinforced steel partitions, effectively creating an impenetrable cage.

Warding the area she conjured up a stool and regarded the man with a calculating stare. Finally she held up her palm and called for her Inner Magic. Her hand tingled as the magic enveloped her hand and formed an orbed floating inches from her skin.

"_Retexui,_" she murmured, twisting her hand slightly and blowing on the orb in the direction of the frozen man.

A violent shudder seemed to rock the man's being as the freezing charm released its hold on its victim.

"_Accio Wand! Accio Portkeys! Accio Poisons!_" she said in succession.

The assassin's wand zoomed in her direction followed by a bent Sickle and two vials filled with a congealed black substance. Incasing the objects in a ball of energy with a quick word she turned her attention to the man.

Silver shackles appeared out of thin air with a careless wave of her hand and fastened the man to the wall.

"_Ennervate!_" she intoned.

He seemed to be knocked out of his stupor as he felt cold metal encircle his ankles and wrists and looked around wildly for a possible escape route.

A cold voice interrupted his frantic movements and he saw a beautiful young woman seated on a stool ten feet from him. Trying to sit up, he noticed silver chains attached to his limbs.

Seeing that it was a young woman in front of him, he tried a unique tactic. "Do you want me that badly?" he asked in a sly voice. "That you would chain me to a wall, love?"

"Silence!" she said, her eyes flashing a stormy brown.

Seeing that the witch in front of him was in no mood to be trifled with, he obeyed. "Who are you?" she snapped.

"As if I would tell y-", he was cut off her a silver bladed sword appeared and hovered in front of him, pressing slightly against the soft skin at his neck. He shivered visibly as it pressed against his skin hard enough to cut through his pale skin. A single droplet stained the edge of the sword crimson.

"Malius Inanis."

"Why are you here?"

"My mission was to kill you… and to obtain information about the WWIA."

"To whom do you report to?"

He tried to reply but a word activated curse set in with her question and a green aura enveloped him. His eyes rolled back into his head, his face frozen in a mask of pain and horror.

"You'll never win… Mudblood," he spat in a rasping voice.

The aura faded leaving a lifeless man with a rather disturbed Hermione. Taking a scrap of his clothes, she incanted the _Portus_ spell and sent the dead man to the WWIA with a quick note about the short interview.

Banishing the steel partitions Hermione made her way back to the living room trying to rearrange her features. With a sigh of relief, she noted that only Ron, Harry, and Ginny were there. The others had apparently gone back to salvage whatever they could get out of breakfast.

Noting her stony expression Harry sighed. "He died didn't he?" he asked.

Hermione's gaze flickered but barely. "Yes, but I don't want to talk about it."

Harry shrugged and mouthed 'Don't ask' to Ginny. Hermione glanced down at her delicate silver watch and gasped in shock. "I'm going to be late!" she exclaimed.

With a twirl of her wand, Hermione spun in a circle and instantly she was garbed in stately black robes edged in silver embroidery. "Guys, I'll be back as soon as possible. Feel free to explore my home, it's much larger than you think it is." she said in a rush. "I'll be back before one o' clock."

Grabbing the crystal from the coffee table, Hermione disappeared from her flat while gripping the cool stone in her hand. Concentrating on the small crystal, she found herself on top of a grassy hilltop. Looking down into the lush green valley below, she saw a slightly familiar stately mansion nestled there. Shaking away that nagging thought that she'd seen the area before, Hermione checked her watch. She had ten minutes.

Hurrying down the hill, she came to a stop at iron wrought gates. Due to her line of work, she had not tripped in her high heels and was not panting from the brisk pace that she had set. A sentinel statue regarded her with a cool stare.

"Are you Lady Hermione Jane Granger-Ravenclaw?" it asked.

"Yes," she replied smoothly. "I am here through directions from one wizard Ducis Dux."

The gates opened and she stepped onto the estate feeling slightly awed. Fountains were artfully sprinkled around the exquisite gardens with quaint paths winding about as if it had all come from a storybook picture.

Hermione had to walk at least one fourth of a mile to reach the front door. When she was there, she carefully checked her appearance and was satisfied to see that her image was immaculate. Carefully, she lifted the heavy gold doorknocker and slammed it down on the wooden door twice.

It creaked open to reveal a slightly darkened entrance hall and a figure hidden in the shadows. Hermione waited on the doorstep, expecting to hear the traditional wizard's greeting. Instead, a calm and collected voice sliced through her thoughts.

"My, my, what do we have here Granger?"

Thoughts quickly flew together with the voice as the key to the puzzle. She was at the Malfoy Manor.

**Author's Note**

_A slightly shorter chapter than normal, but I assure you that the next chapter will be certainly interesting. As promised, I have once again introduced Draco to the story and we will be seeing much more of him from now on. Also, true to my word, I have given you a slight overview of Hermione's job although many details have been left out._

_What will be in store for the next chapter or two? Well, Draco isn't ready to change again, so expect some angst seeing that Hermione is very emotional at the moment. We will also get more in-depth talks between Harry and Hermione. Don't get me wrong, Harry is madly in love with Ginny. The only reason why those two talk so much is because their line of work requires researching and theories and that's what each person can provide for the other._

_I'm not too happy about only getting one single review for the last chapter. Actually, I'm pretty upset that everyone has seemingly abandoned me… :sigh:_

_autumnxrain – Actually, I didn't notice the sentence being cut off since it was cut off at a place where a normal sentence could stop. Don't kill me please, Draco was asked for and I obliged. Even though I'm more giving you a slight taste of him than anything else. Also, people might not flame me for now, but no one is reviewing… or reading for that matter._


	9. Chapter 8: Crimson Visions

Although the sight of Draco had shocked her, she managed to throw up a neutral expression. At first Hermione thought that he had seen through her mask, but after a second, his eyes had returned to a mysterious slate grey and she stuck out a hand.

"Hermione Granger," she said briskly, pretending as if his former remark had not taken place.

Taking the proffered hand, Draco clasped her small hand in a warm hold. Hermione flinched slightly at his touch but her face remained impassive. She knew that he was perfectly at ease in her company, slouched against the doorframe like the last time she had seen him.

"Draco Malfoy." he replied with a smirk. "If you'll come this way please…"

Following her ex, Hermione was slightly intimidated by the cavernous entryway. The vaulted ceiling was framed by gold filigree and a massive chandelier was its main ornament. Shivering slightly, Hermione clasped her folder tightly and wound her way around claw-footed armchairs and statues. Soon they had arrived at a sunny study. The walls were lined with towering oak bookshelves and a mahogany desk was placed in the center, piled up with parchment.

Suddenly, Draco spun around, gazing at her with an unreadable look. "I trust that past enmity shall not interfere with our current venture?" he asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

Hermione's blood boiled as her hand clenched the paper portfolio tightly. "You and I are no longer children," she said in a deceptively calm voice. "I am hoping that adolescent problems won't even be considered as a factor."

He nodded, almost imperceptibly and conjured up a round table and two chairs. "_He really wants this to work_," thought Hermione. "_This project means something to him. Purebloods and their pride…_"

Hermione took a seat and opened up her folder. "I've put together some notes on possible themes and have put together some charms that will allow us to diagram the areas that will be accessible during the gala in order to decorate," she said, shuffling the papers. "What have you put together so far?"

He pushed several sheets of parchment towards her. "Several themes as well as possible design schemes," he replied with a businesslike air.

Hermione handed him her notes with a cheery expression, but within her heart had plummeted. "_This truce is for business,_" she thought. "_He could care less about anything else. He's truly gotten over it…_"

"… should do?"

She snapped out of her trance-like state and saw Draco looking at her expectantly. "Well?" he snapped, rather annoyed about her confused expression.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, I didn't quite catch that," she said, only half apologizing.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he repeated his query. "What do you think we should do?"

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment before answering. "A believe a medieval masquerade is in order," she said. "Picture it: your manor decorated like a palace from centuries ago. Guests will feel as if they were spirited back in time for a medieval feast and holiday celebration. Ball gowns and doublets will be donned as well as elaborate masks, as partygoers dance to old ballads and feast on food fit for a king."

Draco sat back in his chairs while pressing his fingers together, pondering the suggestion. "It's alright, I guess," he said finally. "But I'm leaning towards a formal banquet."

"It'll be formal," she retorted. "And it'll be fun and attractive. Formal banquets are so cliché. A different theme for these charity balls would be refreshing and might cause more individuals to donate in order to obtain an invitation."

"It's an untried idea!" he argued. "We have a budget to work with and elaborate feasts and a group that is skilled in playing medieval instruments will be hard to find and hire!"

Hermione's eyes flashed. "I think it's a good idea," she snapped. "If I must, I _will_ pay for all of the expenses. It's not just an important cause that we're raising money for, it's one that can decide the war. If lycanthropy is cured, there will be no werewolves for Voldemort to recruit!"

Draco's expression had turned stony at the mention of the forbidden name. "Do you even know how much these events cost?" he asked scathingly. "Millions of galleons are expended, simply to acquire the right decorations! Conjuring and Transfiguration simply don't do it. We need sculptors and craftsmen who _specialize_ in making these decorations. What's more is that if we go with your suggestion we will have to employ workers to custom make these… _ornaments_!"

"Is it, or is it not a good idea?" cut in Hermione. "Tell me, Mr. Malfoy, is it a good idea? Do not take the budget into consideration for now. Tell me if this charity ball will attract hundreds more donators!"

He surveyed her face, clouded with anger and impatience. Her hair fell freely, tumbling past her shoulders while curls of hair framed her face. "Honestly, Ms. Granger," he said smoothly. "Control yourself."

Her face flushed but she didn't react to his jibe. Draco sighed and flexed his fingers. "Fine," he said. "It's a good idea, but there's no way we'll get funding for something that extravagant. I'm estimating the costs to be around five million galleons."

"_Sarcina!_" she said.

Her papers flew back into her folder as she shut it forcefully. "I fear that I have other engagements to attend Mr. Malfoy," she said curtly. "I shall owl you a list of further dates that are available for meetings. We can establish a timetable the next time we meet."

Without another word, Hermione strode out of the study fuming. "_How _dare_ he question my plans!" _she thought furiously. "_As if I hadn't already considered the budget and thought of some way to remedy that particular!"_

Draco watched Hermione's retreating back and twiddled his thumbs with a disgruntled look. "_I don't care if she's an heiress!_" he roared in his mind. "_She has no right to be disregarding the budget and throwing about wild ideas for a multi-million Galleon ball!"_

**Hermione's Flat – 3:00 P.M.**

Hermione Apparated directly into an armchair and with a twirl of her wand she was clothed in a delicate pink cashmere sweater and a pair of worn jeans. Throwing her folder onto the coffee table, she conjured up a glass with a twirl of her hand.

"_Aguamenti!_" she incanted and watched as the goblet filled up with crystal clear water.

"What?" she snapped, seeing Harry regard her with a calm gaze.

"I want answers, Hermione," he said simply.

Hermione tilted the glass goblet so that a thin stream of water trickled down her parched throat. Swirling the water around as she did with wine Hermione pondered for a moment. Curling up on the squashy armchair, she made herself comfortable and sipped from her glass again. "What do you want to know?"

Harry sat up on the couch and made himself comfortable as well. For some reason, he could tell that this would take a while. "A lot of things," he answered rather evasively.

"_Cedo Temtum_!" she commanded, and the clear water slowly gained a deep purple hue. "Dessert Riesling. Care for some?"

Harry shook his head. "I'll go with a glass of water," he replied. "Or maybe some Butterbeer."

Hermione made a slicing motion in the air and a silver platter appeared with a mug of foaming Butterbeer and a glass of spring water. "Take your pick," she said rather amiably. "And then we'll talk… again."

Harry opted for the Butterbeer and the tray vanished. "Hermione, I think I – well, everyone – has reason to suspect that you're still hiding things…"

Hermione interrupted him with a wave of her hand. "I'll tell you some things, if you'll answer some of my questions," she offered. "That way we'll keep some secrets and share others."

"Alright, but I've got my first question," Harry said before taking a swig of the sweet drink. "Why did you stay away for three years?"

Hermione frowned as she held her wine up to the light. Without looking away from the wine, she took her wand and quickly erected a silent space so that their conversation would be interrupted. "That's a long story," she said finally. "Are you sure that you want to know?"

Harry nodded, noting his friend's pensive attitude. "I left you all for three years to conduct extensive research on a potential weapon for you to use against Voldemort," she finally said.

The mention of a weapon rang in his mind as Harry looked eagerly at the moody young woman with a hint of pleading. "What? What was it? Will it work?"

"Wandless magic, Harry," she replied, tearing her gaze away from the rich wine. "I rediscovered a thing of the myths."

"How do you exactly _rediscover_ wandless magic if its never existed before?" he asked cryptically.

"Ah, but that's where you are wrong, Harry," she said. "Wandless magic was created by Merlin himself and he then planted the idea in myths. It is said that he intended it to be widely distributed knowledge, but after the release of magic about the land, he set down hundreds of hints and riddles for someone to solve and thus unlock the secret of wandless magic."

"Three years of research, nonstop, brought me upon the fundamentals of wandless magic. Merlin never advanced the idea for he knew that in order to discover the secrets, that witch or wizard would understand enough to advance it themselves," she explained. "Simply put, the riddles and clues didn't really bring me to learn wandless magic; they just helped me understand raw magic and its properties. How magic is accomplished."

Harry gaped at her. "You uncovered something that Unspeakables have been working on for centuries in _three years?" _

Hermione nodded and gave him a wry smile. "What I discovered is that an average witch or wizard has an aura of magic that spreads approximately one mile in diameter. Now, every spot this aura touches leaves magic in its wake for around one century. However, the more powerful a wizard is, the larger the diameter is and the magic left lasts longer. Wands emit a small aura that is roughly one foot in diameter which you use to cast spells," she clarified. "However, without a wand, you must rely upon this residual magic to _weave _spells."

"Wait a minute," interrupted Harry. "_Weave_ spells? Don't you _cast_ spells?"

"Hold on!" scolded Hermione. "I'm getting there."

After making Harry promise not to interrupt, she shifted in her seat to resume her explanation. "Alright, the basic fundamentals of spell_casting_ are the incantation and wand movement. When you're moving your wand, you're actually taking the small stream of magic that your wand core is emitting and weaving it into a spell. The incantation is used to release the power that builds up as you draw upon your _inner_ magic to strengthen the spell beyond basic means," she said. "So when you do wandless magic, your fingers must be able to grasp this intangible residual magic and weave it into a spell."

Harry couldn't help but ask "How do you touch something intangible?"

She smirked at his utterly confused expression before throwing her head back and laughing. "Harry, you forget the topic of our conversation: _magic_."

"But still," he persisted. "Is it a skill that you're born with? The ability to touch the intangible magic, meaning."

"Spot on, Harry," she said in an approving tone. "However, the ability to do so doesn't mean that you'll know that you possess the means to accomplish it. So far, I have been the first person since the days of Merlin to accomplish wandless magic."

Holding up a flat palm to stop any further interrogation, Hermione sipped at her Riesling before looking over in his direction. "Now it's my turn to ask a question. How did you know that Malius Inanis had died during my interrogation?" she demanded.

Harry flinched slightly and ran a hand through his messy jet-black hair. He grimaced slightly before meeting her steely gaze. "Are you sure-", he began.

"An answer for an answer, Harry," she said in a clipped tone. "I have honored my part of the deal and it is time for you to do so as well."

Harry sighed and drained the rest of the frothy drink in a single gulp. A deft clawing motion from Hermione rendered the mug invisible. "I didn't actually know for certain that Inanis had died, but I suspected it," he offered. "I was also lying the other day when I claimed that the Ministry hadn't caught any important Death Eaters since our fifth year."

Seeing that he had paused uneasily, Hermione motioned for him to continue. "Every Death Eater we capture dies just minutes into their interrogation. Some don't even make it to the Ministry. It's as if Voldemort knows when his followers are captured and drains their very vitality from them," he said.

"So the Ministry is pretending that the Death Eaters have suddenly disappeared as if the Aurors accidentally killed them in the field. It sounds better than saying that Voldemort is killing all of his followers that fall into the hands of the authorities," concluded Hermione with a frown.

Harry nodded tiredly. "It's scary though," he mused. "Voldemort has killed hundreds of his followers as if they are… _expendable._ It's like he's got thousands of other followers that are lined up to replace the ones that are caught."

Hermione suddenly slipped off of the armchair and banished her glass of wine. Straightening her pink sweater, she glanced at her thin silver watch. "Look, Harry," she said. "Meet me under the old oak tree in two days at 2:00 p.m. I have a press conference in ten minutes and I have to get ready."

Quirking an eyebrow Harry dispelled the wards and sat up as well, straightening his rumpled clothes. "I've got to run as well," he said. "Ginny and I have… previous arrangements. If you want, I'll tell everyone that you had to leave. And I promise that I won't tell a soul about your discovery."

The young witch's pink lips curled in a small smile. "Thanks."

With that word, she vanished and Harry soon heard the splashing sound of water meeting a marble basin. He set off in the opposite direction, looking for the inquisitive red headed Ginny Weasley that was drawn towards anything that was novel-like.

Hermione was in her spacious bathroom, washing off grime marks that running around that day had caused. By the time she was finished, healthy unmarred peach skin shone in the dimly lit bathroom. "_Not bad,_" she thought to herself. "_Now, about my robes..."_

Entering her bedroom, she quickly rifled through her neatly hung robes and selected the royal blue Ravenclaw robes she had worn the day before. "_This will do, seeing as the meeting is about my inheritance_," she concluded.

With a quick twirl and a small bit of eye shadow, Hermione had gone, leaving the room as if she had never visited it.

**Press Conference**

Hermione Apparated directly to the standard Apparition point in east London and set off at a brisk walking pace. Her thick cloak protected her from the biting wind but the breeze played with her hair, teasing ringlets out of place. By the time she had arrived at the fancy hotel, her hair had gained a windswept look that offered her appearance a fresh type of beauty.

Immediately flashes filled her vision as she entered the press conference room. Security guards were trying to shout over the din while others were sporadically checking for passes. Questions rang in the air as she made her way towards the front of the room.

"Miss Granger, how goes your life out of Hogwarts?"

"Can you tell us what you've been doing these past few years?"

"Do you have a job, Miss Granger? Who is your employer?"

"Do you intend to take over the Ministry?"

"What are your intentions towards the Wizarding world as a whole?"

Hermione politely ignored the questions and offered the photographers a few demure smiles as she made to sit down in her chair. Many journalists had ceased shouting random questions and began to question her with the same queries so that she could answer them one at a time.

"Miss Granger, is there anyone who you have contacted since your graduation?"

Hermione looked a tad irritated as a flashbulb went off just mere inches away from her eyes. "No, I'm afraid that I have not been contacting friends until these past few weeks," she admitted.

"Miss Granger, is it true that you donated money to St. Mungo's in order to gain political influence?"

Her eyes flashed as soon as the words had parted from the naive reporter's mouth. "I am in no way a politician, miss, and I think it to be best if you did not question me about a position that I do not, and will never hold," she said in an icy tone.

Although that specific reporter ceased her questioning, more jumped in to take her place at questioning the irate heiress. "What have you been doing for a living?" asked Rita Skeeter of the _Daily Prophet_.

"I'm in business," she answered vaguely.

Journalists quickly jotted down the small tidbit of information as several more flashbulbs went off. "How many people report to you at work?" asked Rita, eager for more information about Hermione's job.

Flashing the annoying reporter a rather sly smile, Hermione answered in a smooth voice. "No one answers to me, Ms. Skeeter."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd at her glib reply and even more were heard as she continued to speak without actually answering someone's question. "Also, as I'm sure you're all dying to ask, I am not dabbling in the Dark Arts," she said with a falsely sweet smile. "I am also not looking to take over the wizarding world as someone else shares authority over the Goblin race with me, although their identity is not for me to reveal."

"One last question, miss," called out a reporter from the back of the room. "Exactly what transpired between May and June of your seventh year?"

"Ah, my seventh year," she said with an almost fond smile. "During those months, Harry, Ron, and I discovered a hint to the possibility of an attack on the Ministry. Following this trail of clues, we finally hit upon the date of the planned ambush. Voldemort and his followers had planned to destroy the Ministry and assassinate the Minister, leaving the wizarding world without a government or leader. We had plotted to thwart this plan, just the three of us, but eventually people found out. As a result, someone leaked the news to Voldemort and all plans were thrown aside as we began to battle for our lives. Somewhere in the fray, Death Eaters had captured Minister Fudge and were about to kill him and carry out their original plan. However, I jumped in front of the Minister and conjured a shield. But due to the odd angle at which I jumped in at, my arm was crushed in the process as the _Avada Kedavra _spell rebounded off the metal."

"Then?" asked the reporter eagerly. "What happened?"

"I knew that I wouldn't be able to block the spell again so I did the first thing I could think of – I transfigured all of the walls and furniture into mirrors. As the Killing curse began to rebound off of objects, I quickly gathered my friends and we loosened the non-Apparition ward so that we could make our escape," she explained. "I was hospitalized for two months and disappeared shortly afterwards."

The room was suddenly quiet of all voices as all of the reporters were madly scribbling on their pads of parchment. With a small smile, Hermione disappeared from the conference room as silently as she had entered.

**Two Days Later**

Hermione wandered about the Hogwarts castle while the students were taking their midday meal. She had arrived two hours prior to her engagement with Harry and had found nothing to do.

Hogwarts still held a part of her heart after housing her for seven years. As she meandered about the corridors, stopping occasionally to chat with a portrait, she couldn't help but wonder if anyone had ever felt such a pull towards their school. Only Harry ever spoke openly of his school as a "true home".

Hermione smiled a little sadly. Times were different now though. Harry now had a home with Ginny in London and he no longer needed to rely on a castle to contribute comfort to his soul. He had a family in his home with Ginny, just to prove that being the smartest witch of the century couldn't get you everything you wanted.

She rested her hand on a doorknob as tears threatened to emerge. _You did this to yourself_. Her throat constricted as she shut her eyes tightly. _You did this to yourself._ Suddenly, the doorknob turned and the door flew open. Hermione stumbled slightly but quickly righted herself.

She was in a room with high windows that lent beams of sunlight to the dusty atmosphere. Small particles of dust were illuminated by the light and floated freely about the room. Against each stone wall were wooden racks laden with swords of all kinds – broadswords, flamberges, sabres, and plain red-pommeled swords.

"I didn't realize Hogwarts had an armory," she murmured to herself.

"It's for fencing class," drawled a voice from the door.

Hermione recognized the voice but didn't bother to turn around. "That much is obvious," she retorted, hefting a sabre in her hand.

"In the wizarding world, it's customarily polite to turn around when you address someone," said the voice. "But I suppose a Mudblood like you wouldn't know."

Hermione whirled around, her knee-length woolen robe hugging her black jeans and yellow sweater. "And I suppose a spoiled brat would know?"

"A spoiled _pureblood_," Draco drawled. "Even blood-traitors like the Weasley's are superior to Mudbloods."

"And why might that be?" hissed Hermione, her fingers turning white as she clenched the sword in hand.

"Mudbloods are an impure race, unfit to be witches or wizards," explained Draco in a condescending voice. "Purebloods should rid the world of them, really. When a Mudblood somehow snags a Pureblood, the bloodline is tainted and eventually the magic will die out as the muddied blood replaces more and more of the pure blood."

"Don't tell me you actually believe that… shit," said Hermione in a haughty voice.

Draco smirked at her. "It's common knowledge," he said. "Mudbloods have tainted brown blood while we purebloods have crimson blood, untainted by the dirt beneath our feet."

Hermione's head pounded as her surroundings became fuzzy and unfocused. Her focal point was the dimly lit figure of Draco Malfoy who stood several feet away from her, regarding her with a look of contempt. He heart thudded heavily in her chest as anger nearly exploded within her. Taking up the sword in her hands, she briefly saw a glint of fear in the young man's eyes.

With a shuddering breath, she took the sword and slashed at her wrist. Crimson red blood flowed freely from the wound as her sight wavered slightly as she tried not to cry out in pain. Gritting her teeth she could only manage one sentence.

"It doesn't look like mud to me," she said in a voice laced with malice.

Flinging the sword down on the floor, she vaguely saw red droplets fly through the air. A loud clanging sound reverberated through the chambers as the blood-streaked blade clattered upon the stone.

Pushing past a startled and blood-stained Malfoy, Hermione slammed the door behind her, leaving the young man to contemplate.

But Draco couldn't think. All he could do was stand there, numb, as if all of his capability of thinking and feeling had deserted him. He stood, showered in blood, simply staring, staring at the blade lying on the cold stone floor, streaked in blood. Crimson colored, pure blood.

Trembling hands finally reached forward and seized the hilt of the sword. Hefting the blade in his grasp, he lightly slid one hand along the side of the sword. Cold metal easily sliced through his pale skin and he lifted his hand up, barely daring to look at the wound he had inflicted upon himself.

The sword in his other hand was stained with a new, but smaller streak of blood.

Finally, he saw the smooth cut spreading from his thumb to wrist, a long line of blood welling up. Crimson blood.

**Author's Notes**

_Aw, it's not a cliffie, but yet it is… I'm so proud! I rather liked this chapter since it's a little darker than the previous ones and a bit angsty. Don't kill me for not bringing Draco in, I talked a lot about him in this chapter. I also failed to explain how Hermione knew there was a press conference. She was contacted by owl, but I didn't feel like inserted that in the story. Characters don't always have to explain everything you know. :grins:_

_Also, sorry about the late chapter update. I was hoping to get it out before the 9th, my first day of school, but I couldn't. Sorry! Also, thanks much to my faithful reviewers! I got a record high of reviews for the last chapter, I love you guys!_

_Eowyn89 – Here's your chapter:smiles: Thanks! Also, Hermione prefers more dramatic approaches to things, but the sword scene was something she did on impulse. Hermione isn't perfect, and her emotions do wreak havoc with her. Throwing things, however, is a bit too juvenile for her. Maybe Ron would do that to Malfoy, but not 'Mione._

_mysteriouscharm – Draco likes making stealthy appearances. :winks:_

_dancrchick – Sorry, I took a little longer this time around, but enjoy! And yes, this story has hardly started yet, Hermione and Draco are in for a huge adventure!_

_autumnxrain – Oh yeah, leave Tiffany for Hawaii… It's _the_ thing to do! There's a lot of Draco in this chapter, sort of like interest. Undercover Hermione is simply explained in this chapter. I don't exactly know when she'll be undercover. Soon perhaps… And yes, would you use the spell on Caleb? Mwhahahaha…_


	10. Chapter 9: Beauty in Mystery

Hermione stalked out onto the Hogwarts grounds with her tight-fitting woolen robe flapping slightly behind her as the winds gently teased the clothing. Wrapping her arms around her small frame, the young witch trudged on towards the large oak tree that she, Harry, and Ron had always adored as students.

Autumn winds had blown piles of leaves all over the grounds and the area under the tree was similarly covered. Rich tones of copper, gold, and deep chocolate brown were like splashes of paint on an artist's palette, mixed in hues and holding a sort of imperfect beauty.

A thin cashmere scarf was wrapped securely around her throat, but soon the gusting wind picked up an end and fondled it with its varying air currents. The end of the white scarf flew in the wind; however, the rest of it remained firmly tucked. Hermione smiled a bit, in a way, she was like her scarf. Part of her was flying through the air, seeking solace but floundering hopelessly while still refusing to be tucked back into a secure world. The other part of her wanted to be content with its security, tucked in an organized world.

With that thought, her scarf end suddenly faltered as the breeze died down and it fluttered lifelessly down towards the ground. Hermione sighed with a heavy heart as her scarf showed her what would happen to the side of her that craved for freedom. When the wind died down, she would come crashing down.

Shoving her hands into her pants pockets, she leaned against the sturdy trunk and breathed into the frigid air. The witch watched as her breath appeared as a misty vapor in the cold that slowly dissipated with each intake of air. A small throbbing pain alerted her to the wrist that she had cut in temper just minutes ago.

She gently pulled her injured hand out of the warm cotton-lined pocket to examine the wound. When she had left the armory, her first thought was to heal it with a wave of her wand. However, something held her back, something like a feeling of immense sadness. In a way, it was a reminder to her, a reminder of the expenses of lost love and the mental and physical pain she had endured. Like Harry, she would be marked to forever remember.

"Hermione?" said a smooth baritone voice. It was Harry.

She quickly tried to hide the jagged red scar, but to no avail. The raven-haired young man caught sight of the throbbing mark and his emerald eyes immediately narrowed. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

"P-p-please," she said weakly. "Don't ask Harry. It's so fresh and new in my memory. It'll only hurt me more if you ask."

The faithful wizard cast a longing look at her. She could tell that he wanted to know what was hurting her so, but she couldn't tell him. It was too personal to share with anyone, too personal and too raw.

They sat down without a further word on the wound that was now wrapped in the loose end of Hermione's scarf. Harry was the first to penetrate the heavy silence. "Do you reckon we should do another answer for an answer?" he asked.

Hermione nodded rather tiredly. "You can start," she offered. "But don't ask about…"

He nodded slightly and gave her a sympathizing touch on her shoulder. "Alright, my first question doesn't count since you already promised to tell me about it: why did I feel a tingling sensation when I touched your shoulder the other morning?" he asked.

Hermione folded her hands in her lap and smiled slightly through her sad composure. "I'm a Scanner, Harry, an _Anakalpsi_," she said. "When I decide to act upon an urge to scan someone, all I have to do is receive contact with that person and I can immediately tell their power level, special abilities, and true identity. My Scanner senses often urge me to scan either someone dangerous to me, or a possibly beneficial ally. You can never keep these pieces of information from a Scanner, and neither can you trick this gift."

Harry contemplated this for a moment. "I felt a gentle probing when you did it, but it was so slight and calming that I didn't think much of it. An _Anakalpsi's_ gift is like Legimency, right?" he mused. "But then again, I suppose you could also vary the effects of the probe."

She nodded a bit approvingly at Harry, her previously melancholy mood dimming slightly. "Now, it's my turn: What magical properties does that Ravenclaw box have and how did you get it?" she asked with an evasive tone, unwilling to share the inspiration behind the question.

He smiled. "I've been waiting for you to ask that question," he said. "But I can only tell you how I got it. I acquired the box at a flea market stall, but it only appeared as a pretty jewelry box. The glamour fell when the box, seeing as it's somewhat sentient, sensed that I would return it to its proper owner. The magical properties however, have their secrets within a memory from Rowena that only her rightful heir can view."

With that, Harry reached into his deep robe pockets and withdrew a small gold-capped vial. Within a swirling mist was a seen, intangible thought in a magical form, holding secrets that she desperately needed to know about. With a smile, she deposited the precious glassware into her pocket, making a mental note to view it as soon as possible.

"Alright," he said after dusting off his robes, obviously worn from some travel he had done earlier. "How did you know to change your spell when I sent off a Stunner?"

She frowned slightly, not wanting to give up that particular secret. "_Come on,_" she thought. "_This is Harry, he _needs_ to know this information if he encounters Voldemort again._"

Clearing her throat and her head she finally decided to honor the bargain that they had sturck two days before. "I've discovered the true nature of spells when I began to weave them and therefore know what certain magics make up certain parts of a hex, jinx, or curse. So, when I saw you send off a Stunner, I automatically deduced which spell could be combined with it to create the most potent effect in stopping the Killing Curse."

Harry looked at her for a long moment before releasing his gaze. "So it all boils down to wandless magic doesn't it?" he asked and saw her nod wordlessly. "No wonder Merlin decided to lock it away."

"It's incredibly potent," she answered evasively. "And now I have to go."

With that abrupt comment, she was gone and a small annoying quote wormed through his mind. _You can't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds. It says so in Hogwarts: A History_.

He stared at the spot where Hermione had originally been with a fierce thought. _Hermione, I'll find out about your secrets one day, even if it takes me years. _

**The Great Hall**

A young woman walked calmly in through the side door and took her place at the Staff Table. No one mentioned her late presence, as if it were a common thing for her to be late to dine. She was wearing flowing periwinkle robes and luxurious black hair was arranged in a messy bun favored by many teenagers. She looked to be about twenty something and moved with a fluid gracefulness that seemed natural to her small but lithe body.

"Severus," she greeted, her voice a rich throaty Italian accent, smooth like melted chocolate and just as sweet.

He inclined his head in greeting, but didn't utter a word, completely fixated on the plate of shepherd's pie. The woman seemed undeterred however, and grabbed a sandwich from the silver serving platters in front of her.

"Potions classes alright, _mio buon amico_?" she asked, still wearing a cheerful but somewhat demure smile upon her tanned face.

He grunted in reply and turned to Minerva McGonagall who quickly hid a smile upon her wrinkled face. "If you'll excuse me Minerva, I'd like to go and set up for my next class," he said, a scowl now firmly planted upon his face.

Both women, young and old, watched the greasy Potions Master sweep out of the Great Hall before lapsing into a small fit of laughter. "Oh dear," said Minerva, shaking with partly suppressed mirth. "Must you always tease him so?"

Her laugh was like the booming of sweet cathedral bells, a lyrical sound that turned any stranger's head. It was a distracting noise, but her colleagues had long given up on suppressing the magnet-like property of her laugh, accepting it as another of her various beauties. "Oh," she murmured, sides aching from her laughter. "He's so sullen about it, you'd think he was trying to imitate a troll."

The rest of the Professors had missed what had transpired between the two, but shook it off carelessly. They were polar opposites in career choices in some ways and yet totally alike and also the best of friends.

As the late lunch began to draw to a close, silver platters began to vanish as students got up to get a head start on their way to mid-afternoon classes. Professors groaned good-naturedly, but followed their charges all the same. Some got up to go to their offices and try to squeeze in a few more papers while others went to their classrooms to set up.

The black-haired beauty headed off towards the Hospital Wing, saying soft hellos and exchanging smiles in the hallway with many of her students. Even several first years that had not had their first class yet stopped to say hello to the well-reputed professor. However, she took a sharp turn up the marble staircase and veered away from the Hospital Wing and set down the corridor.

She stopped in front of a large burnished wooden door and drew a golden key from her robe pocket. Inserting it, she twisted it sharply to the right, and they spun it 360 degrees to the left. Her wand came out immediately afterwards and she formed a small pattern in the air and the shifting sounds of locks could be heard.

After a moment, she pushed the heavy door open and wedged a small, inconspicuous stopper beneath the door. The room that she had just entered lacked a far wall, but instead had a window spanning the length and height of the room, giving a breath-taking view of the Hogwarts grounds. Sunlight filtered into the neat and tidy classroom, illuminating the homey room with bright beams of light. The room itself resembled a small clearing from an enchanted forest, and was liable to change any day whether it be next week or just in three days.

At the moment, the walls were lined with large oaks, towering above the lush green floor. Small blue flowers twined themselves around the massive trees and many boulders littered the room, making the clearing seem like a fortified area. A keen student would occasionally realize that the classroom was enchanted to seem like the actual forest, with limitless boundaries and a soaring blue sky. Small clusters of fragrant flowers also were found in the area and creatures, mundane and magical, occasionally "visited" the classroom.

She breathed in the sweet scent of the simulated forest and set one foot into the classroom. Magic danced in the air as her clothing changed instantaneously so that she was now garbed in the soft flowing white toga of a Greek goddess. Her feet were clad in golden lace-up sandals and her hair was piled up upon her head, several ringlets escaping the style to frame her serene face.

She stepped fully into her classroom and perched her slight figure upon a large boulder on the side of a small waterfall. The beautiful black-haired woman closed her large eyes and waited for her students to come.

The first of them came, Ravenclaws, and were surprised as the spell that had changed their professor's clothes also did the same for them. Soon enough, each and every student came in, not wanting to miss their beloved professor's intriguing classes. Each of them was garbed in the clothing of the ancient Greek, but each outfit was customized to accentuate certain beauties and fit perfectly from the most voluptuous witch to the scrawniest wizard.

As the last student came in, muttering an excuse about a disturbance near the Hospital Wing, the heavy door released itself from the stopper and swung silently shut. Upon the wood was a gold-plated sign that was adorned with flowing script that read "Defense Against Dark Arts."

**The Malfoy Manor**

**Flashback (Dream)**

"Crucio!" _came a soft sibilant voice, laden with unrestrained malice. _"Crucio, crucio, crucio!"

_A once proud figure laid upon the ground, broken and bloodied. The young man was assaulted by the fresh wave of pain, clenching his teeth as imaginary knives sliced at his pale skin, twisting and burying their blades into him, just to be yanked out with a twirl and sunken into a different spot._

_He tried not to scream, but a howl escaped his throat, guttural and full of tortured agony. He writhed, shouting on the ground, begging for whatever god existed to end the pain or kill the attacker._

_The consecutive spells were like nothing he had felt before. His "master" was an expert at the Cruciatus Curse, making his previous encounters with that specific spell of torture, a walk in the woods._

_He was almost aware of the blood trickling down his temple where heavy boots had cracked part of his skull. However, his senses had shut down just ten minutes into the spell, leaving him in a swirling vortex of redness and unbearable pain. He had thwarted the Lord's plan and he was now dying a slow death._

_His breaths were a curse to him as shattered rib fragments had punctured his lung, forcing him to cough up blood on the dank stone floor. A ring of white-masked black-robed figures surrounded him, looking upon his anguish with a sense of grim satisfaction. After all, he had been the source of their punishment._

_Half an hour into the spell, the magic had been abruptly cut off, leaving the young man still writhing in agony of the ghost-like after-effects of Cruciatus. His vision had returned slightly, but his sense of hearing was still ringing from the blows he had been given to speed up his death. He could only feel the pain, lessened but still lingering from the power and hate that had fueled the Lord._

_The voice that had begun the curse finally pierced through the air. "Leave him, my Death Eaters. We have more business to attend to as he dies and breathes his last, not even graced by the presence of our feet. To those who may fail me in the future, your punishment shall be more… lenient. To those who plan to rebel against me…" his eyes flashed as he spoke this in a malicious voice. "Your death shall be imminent."_

**End of Flashback**

A sweating Draco Malfoy lurched up in his seat where he had fallen asleep, arranging possible bands to be hired at the upcoming gala. His body was wracked with ghost-like imitations of his ghastly experience.

Although a sun beam fell directly upon his face, pale sickly skin contrasted against the tanned tone of his arms. Beads of perspiration ringed his face as he fought to control his breathing.

Gritting his teeth, he tried to stand but fell heavily into his leather chair. A soft voice sounded through his head. "_My gift to you Draco Malfoy…_"

The platinum blonde young man cautiously felt at his left forearm that was the center of his pain. He gasped as raw skin was chafed by the material of his shirt, already soaked in blood. Draco pulled back the cotton material to see a bloody mess upon the skin that had been unmarred when he had fell asleep.

A slightly glowing mark was seen there in the shape of a sword intertwined with a snake, dripping in blood. Below the image were the words, written in a spidery hand, _Proditor Mali. _Betrayer of the Evil.

**Potter Mansion**

Ginny paced around in front of Harry who was seated on the couch watching his girlfriend mutter under her breath as she proceeded to try her best at wearing out his carpet. He was lounging comfortably, gillywater in hand, his eyes following Ginny's path before a random shout from her pierced through the air.

"She's hiding something!" cried the young witch, throwing her hands up in despair. "She has so many secrets and we don't know a single _thing_ about her! What happened to the bookworm Hermione that we all know and love? She's a spy now? For heavens sakes, she breaks laws and rules at every turn!"

Suddenly, she stopped her frenzied pacing and turned to Harry, eyes narrowed expectantly. "So?" she asked, voice flat. "What did she tell you?"

He started at the accusation, his Seeker reflexes kicking it barely fast enough to catch a hold of his wobbling glass. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "What?" he finally asked.

Ginny snorted, still standing over him. "Don't play innocent Harry James Potter," she lectured. "I know you've met with her when you come home with a puzzled look on your face. I'd die to know how you managed to get _anything_ from her, but now all I want to know is what she's told you."

He looked surprised, unsure whether or not to honor his promise to Hermione, seeing as Ginny had been a substantial help to him against Voldemort. Suddenly, a soft voice rang in his mind along with a soothing touch. /-_You can tell her Harry._-/

He instinctively recognized her unmasked aura and took her approval to heart. "Look, Ginny," he began. "I only know what I know because I hadn't been entirely truthful with her. It was an answer for an answer. You know how observant she is, if she'd been any less vigilant, I wouldn't have a bargaining chip."

The red-haired young woman sighed and sank down onto the couch. She caught his chin and turned his head towards her, locking gazes with him as green and blue met. "I don't need to know the specifics," she said firmly. "Actually, spare me the details until we can find a safe place to talk. Just give me a vague description and I'll corner 'Mione later."

Harry grinned as a mental picture of Ginny startling Hermione formed in his mind. It was doubtful that a History of Magic teacher would be able to catch a spy off guard but he smiled nonetheless. "Alright, I'll give you this in a nutshell since you're due in for a class in fifteen minutes," he said, checking his watch. "Hermione has discovered a long-lost… theory, if you will, that could change the war. She's also got several abilities that can help us with recruiting allies."

Ginny looked rather thoughtful as her sharp mind put two and two together. "She also told you why she's been gone so long as well," she mused. "It's only logical…"

With that thought she trailed off into a pensive silence before jumping up. "Did you say fifteen minutes?" she said.

Harry laughed and checked his watch. "Ten minutes now," he said playfully. "That's enough to do your hair, but what about your makeup? Oh dear, that may be a problem."

With a parting punch, Ginny sped up the spiral staircase to get ready to teach. Harry chuckled as he heard slamming drawers and frantic movements as his girlfriend tried to get ready for her 4:00 class. He heard up his watch and looked at the small silver hands. It read 3:30.

**Defense Against Dark Arts Classroom**

"Today we are going to focus on dueling," said a lyrical voice. "But we are also concentrating on being able to perform well in any environment in any outfit, no matter how fancy or hindering some parts may be."

"As you can see, today your outfit consists of many drapes, creases, and ornamentations," she continued, gesturing towards the large piece of fabric that hung from her arm, tied up by several white ties. "In addition to protecting yourself in this awkward uniform, you shall also learn to use your opponent's outfit to your benefit."

With that word, she wordlessly waved her wand and neatly severed the ties on her arm. The white material fell and left her tanned arm exposed as well as hindering her movement further. "Split up into groups of two," she said with a commanding air. "I want simple charms, hexes, and jinxes. No curses are allowed in such circumstances… for now. We will be working on this aspect for two weeks and you will eventually know how to use both genders' clothing to your advantage and be able to battle and overcome multiple opponents by using your ingenuity and applying only basic spells."

Intrigued by their professor's theory, the students quickly paired up, but not before a Slytherin seventh year decided to speak up. "Professor," he said in a cocky voice. "Would it be possible for us to duel you? You only have three or four years of experience over us and Dumbledore doesn't always appoint the most competent teachers."

Surprised by his daring approach, the students were shocked but knew that he had a point. The Headmaster had made more than a couple grievous mistakes when hiring a Defense professor, and if this teacher could demonstrate what she knew, she could be just as good as the "legendary Lupin".

They were even more shocked to hear the musical peal of her laughter. "I'll give fifty points to any House that has a student or students that manage to defeat me in a duel," she said, eyes shining at the challenge. "However, you will only apply the techniques that we are focusing on so that I can demonstrate exactly how useful they are when mastered."

It was a logical idea but the Slytherin was eased by her relaxed attitude. "Could I duel you now?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not meaning to be disrespectful, but you haven't shown us how this theory can be applied yet. You've only explained it. Even though it _was_ a good explanation, nothing can replace an actual demonstration."

She smiled benignly at the obvious challenge at her authority. "Of course Mr. Celsus," she said. "Please stand and prepare to duel."

He stood the customary five feet away from her and bowed as she swept him a curtsy as tradition commanded. "Remember, students," she said as she straightened up. "Only bow when you're dueling formally, otherwise you'll be disarmed and stunned before you know what's going on. Also, I won't require any further bowing in my class."

"Wands at ready!" she commanded, raising her vine wood wand and readying it.

A student in the crowd who had been assigned to call start waited until he thought that his professor had finally relaxed, trying to catch her off-guard. "Start!" he bellowed.

"_Impedimenta!"_ she cried softly, her reflexes taking over as soon as she heard the command to start.

The cocky Slytherin was caught off-guard as the Impediment Jinx caught him squarely in the ankles and he tripped over his long toga and fell flat on his face. "Observe how I just used his discomfort with a new outfit to my advantage," she said calmly, not attacking the fallen student.

As Celsus struggled to get up, she flicked her wand deftly and severed off some of the excess material to help him. His eyes blazed as he realized that his opponent was trying to help him.

"_Incarcerous!_" he shouted, sending thick ropes speeding her way.

At the last possible second, the black-haired professor moved out of the way of the ropes, apparently unhindered by any of her ornaments or outfit as she was moving with an almost inhuman gracefulness.

"_Incendio_," she said calmly, aiming the spell at the grass beneath the young man, directing the fire in a circle as clumps of flowers caught fire.

He yelped in surprise as the flame licked at his clothes and put it out with a wordless incantation that they had learned last week. "_Diffindo_," he shouted, sending the cutting hex towards her.

This time, she didn't move out of the way, but instead maneuvered her arms into the path of the spell. This movement effectively sliced off the extra material that used to hang off of her arms, leaving her wand arm less hindered.

"Learn to use spells to your advantage," she commented. "That way you don't need to utter your own spells and waste valuable attacking time."

"Attack me!" he growled in frustration. "Stop taking pity on me! I don't need it!"

The boy, fueled by his idea that his teacher was being possibly condescending, he hurled himself at her, hoping that his slightly larger mass would bring her crashing down.

She moved to the side and pushed him on his back, sending the Slytherin sprawling towards the ground, propelled by the momentum of his attacking speed and directed towards the floor instead of the unmovable wooden door by her push. "_Petrificus Totalus_," she incanted, rendering her opponent unmovable.

"You see," she said, "if I had actually attacked Mr. Celsus here, I would be actually defying rules that Hogwarts has set up. Do not ask me to duel you in an offensive way, or else you may be making the largest mistake in your life. I have qualified for the Auror position but turned it down along with the title "Hit Witch." Obviously, I rejected the title because of the fact that the title is supposed to be 'Hit Wizard', only the Ministry changed it to make an exception for me."

Murmurs started to drift about the classroom at this as the four Houses put their heads together in their respective groups to discuss this new revelation. She let them and waved her wand, fixing her outfit.

With a murmured '_Finite_', Celsus was freed from his Full Body Bind. The dejected Slytherin returned to his group while the professor waved her wand to fix the hem of his Greek toga.

Fifteen minutes into their lengthy discussion, the Italian beauty noted the placement of the sun outside and clapped her hands loudly, startling the students. "We have five minutes before class ends," she announced. "Does anyone have questions?"

A shy, diminutive girl raised her hand. "Can we keep these clothes?" she asked. "They're of wonderful quality and we think that they're beautiful."

Noting the gesture that the girl made towards the cluster of Ravenclaw girls, she smiled. "Of course," she said. "I designed each of these outfits for you to wear. You'll need to change into them for each of my classes, and at the end of this particular lesson, they're yours to keep."

Excited giggles soon erupted through the classroom as girls murmured excitedly about their teacher's newly revealed fashion sense. The boys however, were only duly impressed.

A boy raised his hand, almost lazily. "Professor, do the boys get anything special?" he asked. "Don't get me wrong, these togas are awfully comfortable and all, but we're _boys_!"

She laughed. "I expected as much," she admitted. "I am giving all of my seventh years something special that you will be able to keep as pets. They're called '_Precoce Piccolini'_, in Italy which would be translated as 'Precocious Little One'. They come in the form of eggs, and depending on the person who hatches it, they can be any type of non-dangerous magical creature. There is also a unique secret to hatching them quickly, but that is for you to figure out by yourself."

"That's impossible!" cried a Ravenclaw boy, Fier. "Those are terribly expensive and normal Hogwarts professors would _never_ be able to afford them for the whole seventh year!"

She smiled benignly. "Ah, but that is where you are wrong," she said smoothly, stretching out on the boulder that she had been sitting upon. "I am by no means, a normal Hogwarts professor."

Before anyone could complain, she waved her wand and eggs the size of a dinner plate appeared in their hands, feather-light. Another wave of her wand conjured up small pamphlets about the Precoce Piccolini. "Remember to take care of them and do as much research as possible to find out the secret to hatching them. If the secret is not found, the bond between you and your Piccolini shall be rather weak. The normal hatching time is in approximately two weeks. Good luck!"

With that, she leapt off of the boulder and strode over to the door, opening it. Students filed out, murmuring and whispering to their friends, their were eggs held safely in the crook of the arm, surrounded by multiple charms to keep them warm and safe as they made their way to their dorms. She smiled she had successfully ignited a united interest in research and learning.

The shy girl from Ravenclaw was the last to leave. As she walked out the door, she spun around to see her professor and said, "Goodbye Ms. Bellezza."

**Author's Note**

_Wow… Now how do you like that? I changed POV's a lot during this chapter, a whole lot more than I've ever done, but it was to establish the plot as it begins to thicken. Also, can anyone remember who Ms. Bellezza was? I'm not telling, but if you read my story faithfully, you would know who she was. Dum dum dum…_

_Also, I'm very excited to announce that I have finally written the first official chapter to my second fic called _Consequential Revenge._ It's a LJ romance, but starts out as angst. The beginning plotline is basically James ties part of his soul to a beautiful piece of jewelry for Lily. However, she rejects it and that officially tears out that part of his soul in an emotionally painful way. Lily has no idea about this, however, and holds a secret crush on James but also hates him at the same time. Sirius decides to seek revenge on Lily for hurting James though, but his revenge backfires in ways some people could never understand…_

_Alright, I've been looking at my Stats, and I'm very sorry to see that people have added my new fic to their favorites list, but haven't liked it enough to even submit 'Good job,' or anything like that. Please, please, please review as reviews motivate me to write. The more I write and find extra time to write, the faster I can get chapters up and the better storyline comes out of my motivation. So hit that little button there and review!_

_Thanks much to my reviewers! As one of them might say, thank you and kiss kiss!_

_autumnxrain – Yes, it'd be hilarious, actually. And, Hermione isn't pureblood, she's a halfblood but still, her blood isn't 'tainted' by any 'muddied blood'. That's the point she was trying to pound into Draco's head. Also, I really liked that scene, even though, as Grace says, it's not my normal writing style. :shrugs: I'm good at adapting. Also, I _may_ stop updating if people decide not to review… I'm really crushed when that happens and the number of people reading my fic are dwindling…_

_mysteriouscharm – Here's your chapter!_

_Eowyn89 – Thank you! I really loved writing the scene and it seems like more than one person liked it. I wouldn't say that the blood part was nice, but it was very dramatic in some ways and there was even a bit of angst in all of that physical and emotional pain. Also, I don't speak French, sorry!_


	11. Chapter 10: Vortex of Blackness

One week passed and as the weather grew steadily chillier, the students inside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were still hard at work, trying to unlock the secrets of like Piccolini. Professors were all astounded by the fire that Katelyn Bellezza was able to ignite but found that similar approaches in their class could not quite replicate her teaching ideas.

The well-known Professor had been rather reclusive all week, avoiding curious colleagues as well as desperate students. As everyone in the castle sat down to their midday meal, she was alone in her classroom, perched on the same boulder that she had occupied when Celsus had challenged her to a duel.

The classroom had changed scenes to reflect the tranquil area of an enchanted forest lakeside. To any casual observer, it would seem as if she had changed the entire layout of the classroom when she had in fact only switched areas in the forest she had replicated earlier.

Smaller, more flexible trees ringed the glass-like lake surface, sweeping thin branches of blossoms over the crystal clear water. Flowers grew in more abundance now, climbing up various boulders and adorning the banks. Small Puffskiens were perched in the branches of the willowy trees, purring contentedly in rhythm with the splashing of the waterfall at the very far end of the lake.

A slender hand was extended in the air, coming from the Italian professor who was lying on the rock, propping herself up by one arm. A delicate golden Snidget was perched on the outstretched hand, cocking its head and regarding her clear blue eyes with its own ruby-like orbs.

Finding no interest in the soft-spoken woman before it, the Snidget zoomed away into the leafy recesses of the trees, trilling a light tune as it went. She smiled lightly and watched it go with keen eyes, marking the path of the small golden bird as it made fancy loops and turns that had made it famous in the wizarding world.

/-_Come here, Aurea.-/_ she trilled calmly in a bird-like voice that touched the Snidget's mind lightly.

/-_Is there something you are needing, my Lady?-/_ it sent back, fluttering its wings effortlessly so that it would glide straight back to her extended hand.

/-_Nothing but companionship.-/ _she replied, trilling a small laugh. /-_Although that is something that is hardly nothing…_-/

/-_Aurea senses a feeling of sadness.-/_ noted the small bird. /-_How is young Master Malfoy?-/_

Her face remained impassive but inside she could feel the surging pain that his undoubtedly unconscious rejections had caused her. /-_I do not know one Master Malfoy.-/_ she managed to say.

The intelligent magical creature regarded her with inquisitive eyes. /-_As you say, my lady.-/_

Before she could reply to the snippy comment, the heavy wooden door banged open as students flooded in, already garbed in the clothing that they had worn on the previous lesson. However, as soon as they set foot in the classroom, the outfits were altered. Even though they still retained the toga-like style, colors and designs were changed to compliment their countenance and overall emotions.

Although several seventh year Ravenclaws seemed rather awed with the spellwork and time involved with the alterations, most of the students shrugged it off, half-expecting that it would happen. However, a universal source of curiosity was the large lake that spanned the entire length of the room and took up nearly all of the width.

Knapsacks and books of all kinds had vanished when the students had filed in, so most just sat down at the edge of the lake, dipping their bare feet in the cool water. Some more observant students had noticed the missing sandals while many Quidditch players had noticed the ruby-eyed Snidget and soon the room was filled with whispered conversations.

"Silence!" commanded a lilting voice from the corner of the room.

Immediately, silence fell upon them like a muffling wool blanket. Most of the room's occupants had failed to notice that their Professor had been in the corner all along. "Has anyone managed to hatch their Piccolini?" she asked, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Many 'No's' could be heard, muttered throughout the crowd. Finally, a young Hufflepuff student stood up. "Professore Bellezza," she said in a rich French accent. "Eet iz not pozzible."

"Ornithologie," she said quite patiently, letting her flawless French flow off of her tongue. "It is quite possible. I have hatched my own Piccolini and did it in a matter of three days."

"I haf researched for hours upon end, mademoiselle, eet cannot be done!" she said rather heatedly, her pale cheeks flushing with impatience.

Before she could answer the rude comment, a small Slytherin boy raised his hand. "Professor," he said in a cultured pureblood voice. "What was the form of _your_ Piccolini?"

She smiled, aquamarine eyes shining with mischief. "Meet my Piccolini, Aurea the Snidget." she said, raising her hand slightly and feeling the small weight lift off of her.

Most Quidditch players reached out to try and touch the bird, the Gryffindor Seeker being the closest to actually accomplishing the goal but falling several inches short. "Please, try not to grab her from midair," she reprimanded lightly. "Aurea is a creature with her own free will. She answers to no one. You must all keep this in mind when your Piccolini finally hatches: magical creatures are not meant to be pets. They can choose to be your companion, your equal, but they shall never stoop down to the level of dependency that you may be used to."

"Now," she continued, swinging her feet around and letting them rest in the lake. "Today our lesson is concentrated upon adapting to environments that hinder your movement. You may have noticed that a lake has taken up residence in this room. Can you theorize why?"

Ornithologie, the French girl, raised a hand, pushing back silvery blond strands of hair behind her ear. "Vater restreects our movement, no?" she mused. "Eet must be that you are eether testing us on our adaptibilitee or teeching us to movf faster in vater because it es like a barrier."

"Correct," she said. "Five points to Hufflepuff. Now, you may have noticed the change in design today. I have managed to inconspicuously add in the rune with properties to dispel any transparent qualities that your togas may reveal in water. Now, partner up with someone your age and height before moving into the pool. Remember: only minor jinxes, hexes, and charms."

As the class progressed, she made notes upon a small sheet of parchment. There was some pretty good spellwork going on in the classroom and the majority of the students had pretty good reflexes. However, several of them had trouble actually applying the theory of using one's surroundings to their advantage. No one swam or disappeared underwater to gain any advantage. No one tried to make their opponent slip up by maneuvering them towards the slippery underwater plants.

A slight frown lingered on her lips when she spotted Celsus, the challenger from a week ago, trying to curse his opponent from the Gryffindor House. "Mr. Celsus," she called out over the din of the dueling. "Ten points from Slytherin for disobeying explicit instructions and detention with Filch next Thursday."

He heard her deliver the punishment and scowled, casting a Full-Body Bind at his opponent who quickly shielded himself. She glanced at the sun outside, noting the position before calling out the order to stop.

"There's some pretty good spellwork going on here and I see we've got pretty well-honed reflexes too," she commented. "We're going to have to work on using your environment and all possible resources to defeat an opponent. I want twelve inches on the possibilities of this theory by the time your Piccolini hatches."

Drying charms were muttered in succession as students wrung out sopping wet clothes and trudged out the door, their respective book bags appearing on her shoulder as they left.

She smiled as the last student left, still murmuring about theories on how to hatch their Piccolini. A child's interest hardly wavered, even in the face of homework.

**Worldwide Wizarding Intelligence Agency**

A young brunette appeared outside the posh office of Dieythryn Cheirisi. She lifted the heavy gold doorknocker once and let it fall, clanging against the other piece of metal and causing the wood to reverberate with the force that had been imparted upon the metal. She stood in front of the imposing portal to her boss' office, clad in a traditional muggle business suit and clutching a small portfolio in her hands, a frown upon usually pleasant features.

"Come in," came the voice of an old man, deep within the chambers.

She stepped into the classy business suite, taking in the scent of new leather and fresh sheets of parchment. "Hermione Ann Granger, reporting in," she said clearly.

A ward fell and she stepped through the flaming doorway, not even bothering to flinch. As she shut the portal, she noted the messy surroundings that she had entered. Dieythryn was a normally organized man but recent times had led to more work for him as spies were exposed left and right. She was the only remaining spy that had not yet been identified by someone who was still living.

"Ah, Hermione," he said rather distractedly, motioning towards an empty chair. "Come in. Sit. We need to discuss the multiple missions you've been on lately."

She flicked her wand and sent various papers flying into their respective places, leaving the messy office neat and tidy again. Her boss smiled benignly. "You're the only person who can do that to my office so far," he said with amusement. "Perhaps you should come in more often. But you didn't come here for idle chitchat. What news of Hogwarts?"

She pushed a folder towards him. "My teaching methods may be rather unorthodox but these new ways are totally unlike the character my colleagues associated with me in the past. That should provide sufficient cover for now. I have not yet gathered any dates of a possible Final Battle, but I do know that it is drawing near," she supplied. "Also, the Weasleys and Harry have been entrusted with my true identity and Percy Weasley was murdered not twenty-four hours before my confession."

He took the portfolio and slipped on a pair of silver spectacles, leaning back in his chair. Dieythryn had been a lithe young man as an Auror fifty years ago but now was the head of the Secret Agent Department at the WWIA. He tapped his chin absent-mindedly as he sifted through her various reports.

"No one else knows?" he finally asked.

She shook her head. "I'm living three lives right now. I'm still coming in grips with the fact that I am no longer Hermione Granger, the muggle-born but Katelyn Bellezza, the Italian Pureblooded Hogwarts teacher _and_ Hermione Granger-Ravenclaw, heiress to the Ravenclaw fortune," she said rather sadly. "My third life is the life that I know exists but don't know exactly what category it would fall under."

He nodded rather paternally as he peered at her through his spectacles. "I want Katelyn at the charity ball that's coming up around Christmas," he warned. "I also want Katelyn to attend the charity ball at the Black's Scottish manor tomorrow. I have written out a cover story for you and a note to be given to the Headmaster. Good luck Hermione."

She nodded tiredly and left her reports on his cleared desk. "It is my duty, Dieythryn."

**Malfoy Manor**

Draco was furious as he paced around his spacious master bedroom. Narcissa had been unbearable since he had been somehow attacked by the Dark Lord. She had been wailing on for hours before he had finally cast a silencing charm on the doors to her bed chamber.

However, he had caught part of her maddened rant before the spell had been cast and it had been playing itself over and over in his head like a maddening song that refused to be forgotten.

**Flashback**

_She was clad entirely in black, however, not in mourning for her late husband who had passed away in his seventh year. Her black eyes were wide with horror and a hint of revulsion when she had caught sight of the brand upon his forearm._

_In a way, she was like the maddened Divination teacher Sibyll Trelawney, practically swathed in shawls and swaying slightly as she nearly swooned at the sight of blood. _

"_You are marked!" she shrieked. "Marked just like your father!"_

"_No, Mother," he said impatiently. "It means Betrayer of the Evil. It is not the Dark Mark but instead the mark of the Dark Lord's victims."_

"_You are marked nonetheless, my son," she said, almost mournfully. "Marked for life..."_

"_I am not marked!" he bellowed. "What has addled your mind Narcissa?"_

"_It is a sign bestowed by the Dark Lord!" she exclaimed. "It is a sign to show all followers that you have caused a part of his failure. A sign that shall mean imminent death should anyone loyal to him see it."_

"_You are marked for life," she said in a sing-song voice. "For however long you life may last now…"_

**End of Flashback**

It still throbbed and had stopped glowing within hours. He traced the crude design of the sword but a sharp prickling pain flooded through him when his finger came in contact with the intricately detailed snake. Bursts of colored lights flooded his vision as he keeled over and fell heavily to the floor.

Searing pain was pulsating through his body, wracking his nerves with coiled up agony. He mercifully blacked out, but not before feeling the rough material of burlap upon his face.

"_My gift to you… my gift to you…_"

**History of Magic Office**

Ginny sat in her office going over papers on the 1612 Goblin Rebellion. She yawned and muffled the rather loud sound in the thick scarlet material of her robe. Professors were supposed to be neutral, even Heads of House as she was, unless they were at a Quidditch match, but she proudly displayed her pride on an everyday basis.

Her eagle quill scratched out mistakes on the parchment with bold red ink, guided by her small but precise hand. She yawned again and peered at the clock above her desk. It read 11:48.

Her door creaked open and she smiled, expecting Harry to do his usual routine of sneaking in behind her and smothering her face with kisses. But the approaching figure was heavier and walked with a slight limp – something a physically active Harry did _not_ have. She turned around in a flash and whipped out her wand.

She fired hexes off towards the hulking figure, screaming incantations and grappling for support as the man deflected a majority of the spells and threw himself upon her. She tried to scream but found thick fingers crushing her windpipe. Unable to breathe she kicked and silently incanted spells that found their way towards his temple.

A deft cutting hex sliced through the tender skin of his forehead and a muffled curse barely registered in her pounding ears. She tried to scream again but the pressure only increased as she began to see black dots as her vision faded.

She blindly reached out and her fingers closed upon a heavy book. She brought it up and slammed it down upon her assailant's cheek before the world spun and was blanketed in black.

The shadowy figure kicked at her limp form, muttering about underestimating Ginny Weasley. However, he dropped an Invisibility Cloak on top of her unmoving form and slung her over his shoulder, only slightly shifting under her slender weight.

The office was completely ruined and signs of a fierce struggle were evident from the large book that lay in the middle of the scuffed up floorboards. The clock ticked away. It read 11:53, only five minutes had passed.

**Hermione's Flat – The Next Day**

Hermione stood at her sink, scrubbing away the early-morning look of bleary eyes and pale complexions. Soon, the tap was turned off and she left the room, humming lightly as she went. It was a beautiful Saturday morning and the faint sounds of twittering robins could be heard through her large window.

Digging through her wardrobe, she selected a casual outfit that would allow a lot of movement and headed towards her kitchen, pulling loose strands of hair into a ponytail. It was 7:00 a.m. and she was planning to work out for a while before drawing up the last of the plans for the gala and heading off to the Malfoy Manor.

However, as soon as she had poured a cup of coffee, Harry Apparated in with a loud, clearly agitated crack. He looked around wildly until he caught sight of his puzzled friend. His black hair was sticking out at odd angles and his glasses had been knocked askew carelessly. Bloodshot emerald eyes burned with an intensity that frightened her.

"Ginny!" he cried, voice cracking. "They've… taken… Ginny! Gone… office… fight… resisted…"

Her brow furrowed as she placed a gentle hand upon his hunched up shoulders. Handing him her untouched cup of coffee she ushered him into the living room before propelling him into a squashy couch.

"Drink up Harry," she said, frowning. "And _then_ tell me what's going on."

He took a hasty gulp and swallowed in record time. "They've taken Ginny! She didn't come home last night and when I checked on her this morning, she was gone!" he said, practically blabbering. "She put up a fight, I could tell! But they took her anyway! She even took one of her beloved textbooks to hit the attacker! The floor is covered in blood, I don't know… I don't know where she is… what I'll do without her…"

She pulled Harry into a tight hug, her eyes flashing coldly. "In that case, Harry," she said in a fierce voice. "They will die a thousand painful deaths for taking Ginny."

He looked at her with a despairing glance. "No one knows where they are," he said in a shaky voice. "I need help Hermione. I know you're a spy and the best in the business. You've _got_ to help… this is _Ginny_…"

Hermione looked away, trying to shield her mind from the unconsciously probing Legilimens. "I can't," she replied, voice faltering. "I'm stretched out thin on two different missions that could expose the WWIA and its workings if I mess up now, when I'm needed most. I have no time between that and everything I've been piled up with in my business job."

She let her face fall into her hands, voice breaking as her small body was wracked with sobs. "I can't do anything for Ginny," she cried. "I can't do anything for her… it's my entire fault that I accepted all of these jobs… I'm not anywhere near the best… can't even handle _two_ missions…"

Harry suddenly caught her chin and twisted her head so that she was facing him. His eyes were flashing dangerously and his voice came out as the low guttural sound of an injured man. "You…" he said slowly. "Are not to be blamed… _Voldemort_ is… especially if he's behind this."

She looked at him; eyes pleading as she nervously twisted the bottom of her white tank top. "I can't help you," she repeated. "I can't do anything."

He got up off of the couch and pushed his coffee mug onto the glass-topped table. He was a wolf, separated from his mate, and caged in an iron prison. His eyes had a hungry look to them – one that longed for Ginny and revenge on the people that had caused him pain.

"I'm going to the Order," he said finally. "They'll know what to do."

Hermione bit her lip and tried not to cry before she stood up abruptly. "In that case," she said. "I have something for you."

With several twists of her hand, she finally placed her palm flat up. A large stone appeared in her hand and she gave it to Harry with a glint of sadness barely visible in her eyes. "It's a Spell Stone," she explained. "Cast just one spell on it and you can manipulate it to your desire, except for the Three Unforgivables."

"Where did you get this?" he breathed, turning the smooth stone around in his hands. "They're nigh impossible to get a hold of."

She eyes clouded over slightly at the question but she plowed on nevertheless. "My father got it from my mother years before on the night of their wedding day. He didn't quite understand what it did but I found it in his room, along with his diary a week after they died," she explained, producing a small leather-bound diary out of her pocket. "I carry the diary everywhere I go and it contains several observations about the stone when my mother was experimenting with it before I was conceived. Take it; you have more need for it than I."

He took the small journal hesitantly, torn between taking something so valuable from his friend and the idea of saving Ginny. "It's your last reminder of your father and your mother," he choked out. "How could I…?"

"Memories have a purpose to serve," she said firmly. "Also, promise me this – even if I die sometime during the war, promise me that you'll rescue Ginny. Promise me to never lose hope and promise me that you'll use rational thinking before rushing headlong into a half-formed rescue plan."

He closed his hand over the stone and carefully pocketed the diary. "I promise, Hermione," he said intensely.

She smiled slightly. "Go on, Harry," she said. "Find her and after that, never let her go. She is your messiah, your bastion of light and courage. Do not fail her."

"I won't," he said with an air of resolution. "Never."

With that final vow and pledge, Harry Disapparated without a sound leaving Hermione feeling so empty and yet so… whole.

**Somewhere in Scotland**

A figure stirred slightly, small shafts of lantern-light illuminating delicately sculpted features. She was dressed in torn and muddied scarlet robes, the gold embroidery barely visible under layers of dust and grime. She moaned painfully as she rolled over, trying to escape imaginary captors.

Another figure was in the cell with her. He sat in a shadowy corner, hidden by the darkness. Only the golden glint of his blonde hair gave away his hiding place as the lantern light reflected off of his hair. His clothes were only slightly dirtied and were clean compared to his cellmate's clothing.

His features were set in a seemingly permanent frown as he stared at Ginny, willing her to wake up. He was exploding with questions after being awake for several hours. Where were they? Who had taken them? Why was _she_ here? Patience and feigned ignorance were worth nothing here. You grabbed what you could get while resources were still open.

She whimpered slightly in her sleep and Draco flinched. She looked helpless and for a moment, he had a sudden desire to comfort her, to wake her up out of her nightmares. However, he stilled the urge that was obviously due to the part of him that hated to see _her_ friends get hurt. He settled back against the cold hard stone walls. He would wait.

**Black Manor**

A string quartet played soft lilting pieces of music, well suited for an early evening ball where not all of the nobles had arrived yet. Several serving boys were busy carrying around platters offering light goodies and flutes of champagne to their guests.

It was said that the Lord Potter had been called away for an emergency, but his close confidante Ronald Weasley had stepped in to take his place. Although the youngest male Weasley was not quite as refined and cultured as Harry was, he was sufficiently tutored in the pureblood way of hosting a party.

However, it was not he who held the eye of everyone at the party but a young lady dressed in a figure-hugging strapless white gown. She held her flute of champagne with slender fingers and elegantly gestured to emphasize points she was trying to make. Luxurious black tresses tumbled down her bare back, flowing sleek and smooth. She had a sweet laugh that resembled the sound of muted church bells that resonated about the room.

She was Katelyn Bellezza, spy of the WWIA and a master of disguise and manipulation. She was the One.

**Author's Note**

_What do I mean when I say she is the 'One'? Why is Katelyn so different from Hermione and yet still compatible as an alter-ego? We'll find out more in the chapters to come. Dum dum dum…_

_Alright, I refuse to update _Consequential Revenge_ until someone reviews! I know its petty and all but seeing as no one feels the need to click a few buttons and tap a few keys, I don't know if writing over 10 pages in only several hours of precious free time is worth it. If you haven't read it, please do… and review!_

_autumnxrain – Moon Festival or not, I still like to write. The story is still progressing, but as you can see, more complex parts of the story are being revealed…_

_emillie8cow – Oh, that's really nice of you… That must have been the greatest compliment I've gotten per-review so far. I'm glad you discovered my story though, it's a wonderful feeling to know that someone out there is reading your work._


	12. Chapter 11: Shadowed Truths

**Flashback**

"_Help me," croaked a young woman._

_She was dressed in russet brown robes, her stained black hair splayed across the ground. The ground of the battlefield. Her eyes were quickly glazing over as death' grip became stronger, squeezing unmercifully and sucking vitality from her body like a leech. A large tree trunk lay upon a good half of her chest, crushing her lower body and constricting her ability to breathe._

"_Help…" she tried, her voice faltering._

_She was covered in blood, both hers, her comrades', and her enemies'. She was a marked woman at the gates of death. She was trying to confess her sins and relieve her spirit of its burden that would allow a safe passage to the next world._

_A comforting feeling spread throughout her broken body, a soft voice rang in her head, her last sanctuary._

"_I fear…" it began._

"_Trouble me not with words of sympathy," she said, breathing heavy and labored. It cost her dearly to speak so. "I know my fate, my destiny. I shall give you yours."_

_A huge surge of magic could be felt as her companion channeled her own vitality into the dying woman. For a moment, her heart skipped a beat and strengthened before faltering and falling back into an irregular beat._

"_Save your strength," she rasped. "I… I need to tell you…"_

_Warm honey-brown eyes swam with confusion and sadness in her blurry line of vision. Her sight faltered and she closed her eyes. Only her capability of speech and hearing remained. "I… I am Katelyn Bellezza," she said, slurring syllables together in order to save whatever strength she still possessed. "I give you… my soul and entrust you with its safe… passage."_

_The woman who had been trying to help the dying witch kneeled down on both knees and rubbed her hands together. "I will do whatever I can for you" she said gently, confused and scared. "But spirits and souls are fickle things, what if I can't control it?"_

_Beneath layers of dirt and blood, the dying witch smiled slightly. "Your destiny and my peace…" she croaked, "lay at your feet…"_

_With a last labored breath her chest stopped its rhythmic rise and fall. The young woman wiped away the grime upon the mysterious woman's face and gasped lightly. Although she was dead, her eyes were shining with an unearthly golden glow. _

_A sudden violent tremor ran through the body in front of her and soon the body's back arched and flew into the air, trembling and quivering as if controlled by some great strength. Minutes of this violence had forced the brown-eyed woman to close her eyes but a gently humming noise made her open them rather tentatively. A whorl of light floated in front of her with no distinguishable shape or color. It enraptured her as she stared at the soul in front of her, about the size of a small text book. _

_A pure voice rang out softly in the still air that was laden with the stench of death. "Will you take me in?" it asked. _

_Instinctively, she put out her wand arm and the soul leapt into the center of her palm, disappearing as soon as it made contact with her clammy skin. A slight shudder ran through her but that was all. Soon a foreign presence could be felt in her mind, but it also felt like it… _belonged.

"_I am Katelyn Bellezza," said the presence. "But you and I are now one as you have bound her promise to avenge me. You, Hermione Ann Granger, are Katelyn Bellezza now."_

**End of Flashback**

People often spoke of her legendary prowess with a wand. A skill so well honed that even as she lay at death's door, she finally was able to revive herself. But as all stories are, the true heroine of the day was left out, a name not even associated with the circumstances.

Katelyn Bellezza and Hermione Granger were one and the same. Their very existence was tied together like an unbreakable chain. Hermione had been gifted with Katelyn's mind, presence, and skills and in return, had to secure a safe passage for her into the peace of the next world.

At the Black Manor, Katelyn stood with a group of business men, her laugh sounding out every so often when a joke was squeezed into their discussions. Her eyes flashed slightly as the memory brought back jumbled emotions and stress. They didn't notice. They never did.

Gripping her glass a little tighter than normal, her eyes hinted of a troubled mind. The presence of death and pain gripped her keen senses and held them fast. For a moment, she could see the redness of her fury as she had massacred Death Eaters. They were people with a goal opposite to hers and yet that little nagging voice told her that her ideals could not determine someone's fate. All around her, the men chattered on. Of course they wouldn't know or understand. They never would.

Her mouth formed a thin line and her eyebrows furrowed slightly. The spirit within her tried to ease her pain but nothing could stop the flood once the dam broke. Flashes of her robes splattered in blood flitted across her eyes. Her blood. His blood. Their blood. The blood of Annie Hartman, 29, Death Eater. The blood of Edmund Langhorn, 19, Death Eater. They had all had at least one person who loved them, many had a family that would never see them come home at night anymore. They couldn't care less. They never could.

"Excuse me gentlemen," came the throaty Italian voice. "I just remembered that I had to catch up with several old friends of mine."

They looked puzzled but let her go. They never had understood her. She crossed the large ballroom, gripping her flute of champagne with unnatural force. A young man stepped in front of her, blocking her escape from the room.

"Have we met, my lady?" inquired the voice.

She looked up and saw Ron standing there with a charming grin on his face. Her pained expression deepened further as she recognized the smile to be the one he used to seduce women.

He noticed her haunted expression that contrasted so with the things he'd heard about the lovely Katelyn. Beautiful, witty, intelligent, and sweet had often topped the list, but never lonely, troubled, or pained.

"I really must go," she murmured, dropping her blue gaze. "I am sorry, Mr. Weasley."

He watched her go with an expression of regret, confusion, and longing. She was an angel without wings. Ron turned around to greet a passing guest. Perhaps he would be the one to help her spread new wings and fly.

**Somewhere in Scotland**

Time had crawled by. Draco had switched his position at least ten times before settling with his previous casual slouch. He growled in impatience. It had been over a day and the Weasley girl was still unconscious.

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a savage howl of pent up anger and agitation. There was no way out and no one to talk to. He could be summoned any minute to his freedom or to see his last minutes – or seconds – of life. Unpredictable events were not his forte. Order and an upper hand with all of the cards was the way he ran and played through his life.

Suddenly, the red-head stirred and began to get up. She groaned and shifted her weight awkwardly. "Where am I?" she murmured.

He couldn't resist the urge anymore. "You're my cellmate," he answered placidly as if commenting on the weather. "You were probably captured yesterday, like me, and I'm guessing we're somewhere in the bowels of Voldemort's fortress."

Her eyes lighted upon his shadowed figure but she didn't narrow her eyes. She didn't scream or try to strangle him like her brother or boyfriend would have done. She just sat there and swept her gaze up and down him as if measuring him up.

Finally, she said, "You're Draco Malfoy."

He rolled his eyes. "And you're Ginny Weasley."

She regarded him with a cool stare but he could detect a flicker of sadness within the deep recesses of her eyes. "Why?" she asked abruptly.

He looked startled and eyed her with a questioning glare. "Why what?" he snorted. "Why are we here? If you knew, I'd love to hear it."

Her gaze was still fixed upon him. Unmoving. Unwavering… "Why did you do it?" she said sadly, still speaking vaguely.

He glared at her. "If you want answers, then at least let the answerer know what the question is!" he said heatedly.

"Why did you break her heart?" she asked her gaze still unmoving as she tested various joints to see if anything was broken.

She winced and drew in a quick breath, hissing in pain as several of her ribs were tested and found broken. "Who? The mudblood?" he asked, playing with a small stone.

"She never betrayed you," Ginny said, speaking through her pain. "Why did you ever think that?"

His features stiffened but he knew the game she was playing. He would get answers from her if he gave her some to satiate her hunger for truth. "Simple," he said, trying to hide the pain from his voice. "She lied."

"She lied to me about everything. She told me that her parents were dead and I comforted her. I found her writing a letter to 'Mum' one day," he said angrily. "She told me that she loved me. I gave her my heart. I found out that she had been cheating with Ron behind my back. She told me that she'd never hurt me… She broke my heart."

"Contrary to popular belief," he snarled. "It was _she_ who broke _me_."

Her eyes widened before she shook her head sadly. "You've been played, Draco."

His eyes smoldered as he caught the idea that she had sent his way. "How _dare_ you say that!" he thundered.

Ginny slowly got up and went over to him. She carefully knelt in front of him and looked him directly in the eye. "Her parents were brutally tortured by Lord Voldemort, held under the Cruciatus Curse for twenty minutes. When she finally got there to rescue them, he used them as shield for two of her Killing Curses. She writes to them every day and every night. There are thousands of letters in her closet, unmailed, begging her parents for forgiveness," she said fiercely with a hint of sadness.

"She loved you too, but when you broke up with her she cried herself to sleep for the rest of the year before disappearing shortly after graduating. She never cheated on you either; Ron had no idea that you two were really serious and tried to kiss her. He succeeded but also found himself with a furious friend. They didn't talk for months."

The pieces fit – there was no denying that. He had always assumed that Ron and Hermione had broken up, covering for the rumors that she cried herself to sleep at night and avoided her friends for months. His shoulders slumped and his eyes were downcast.

"Why would someone tell me that they were seeing each other secretly, then?" he asked in a pained voice.

The redhead looked at him almost sympathetically. "Hermione made many enemies the day she became your girlfriend, Draco," she explained. "What you should be asking is: why would someone _not_ want to see Hermione's life go wrong?"

Draco could have sworn he had heard a laugh deep in his mind. He cringed as the phrase rang in his ears, mocking him. It was like he had it all planned out…

_My gift to you Draco… My gift to the Betrayer…_

**Ministry of Magic**

A small group of Aurors sat in the meeting room that Moody often chose for spur-of-the-moment Order meetings. He rapped the wood table rather impatiently, trying to restore order as members gossiped and discussed the circumstances that had brought them together for an unplanned meeting.

"Quiet!" he barked, magical eye still swiveling madly as he scanned the nearby areas for possible eavesdroppers. "The meeting has been called to order. Harry, come forth."

A haggard looking Boy-Who-Lived rose out of his chair, still dressed in rumpled robes that he'd hastily donned that morning. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and took his place at the head of the table. All eyes turned to him, filled with sympathy and hard resolve.

"Ginny was kidnapped last night between the times of 8:00 p.m. and 5:00 a.m. Apparently our attacker snuck in the door to her History of Magic office and she heard them come in and whipped around to fight. They fell to the floor after exchanging some spells and Ginny was apparently disarmed. The attacker managed to subdue her somewhat," he said, voice cracked and worn from yelling. "Perhaps he had her in a headlock, forcing her to grab the nearest object – a textbook. Phoenixes, we're looking for a heavily built man who has a bruise on one of his cheeks and perhaps a gash from the _Diffindo_ hex on his temple."

Members nodded and stored the words away in their head. Rescuing Ginny was not something that was meant to be voted on. She was a valuable member and Harry's closest friend and girlfriend. She would be found at all costs.

As the meeting was adjourned after a brief summary of the events to be recorded in the logbook, Harry sat down with a red-eyed Molly Weasley. She gave him a watery smile and blew into her handkerchief.

"How're you holding up, dear?"

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, a faraway look in his eyes. "I'm fine, mum, really…"

"You look terrible." A light blazed within her bloodshot eye. "But we're trying our best to find her."

His composure darkened. "She _will_ be found."

He strode out of the room leaving the distraught woman behind. Normally he would have stayed to comfort her, but time was little and precious. He had to get things done before Voldemort officially gained the upper hand.

"Tonks!" he said, jogging up to meet the Metamorphmagus Auror.

"Wotcher Harry," she said, trying to be as casual as possible. "Need anything?"

He looked about and pulled her into a nearby conference room. A quick word rendered them completely unattached to the rest of the Wizarding World as wards and charms were placed upon the door and room.

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him curiously. "Nice spellwork," she commented. "But what's with the secrecy? A few charms would have done it."

"I need to tell you a huge secret – it's not mine to tell, but I have no other choice," he explained.

She cocked her head and surveyed him with interest. Her eyes rapidly changed color as she became lost in her thoughts.

"It depends what you want me to do," she said finally. Her eyes settled back into a mundane brown.

He shook his head firmly. "I can't tell you your mission until you promise to keep this a secret. You're good at Occulemcy, I'm hoping that you're good enough though," he said.

She sighed. "Fine, I promise upon my honor as a witch and Auror," she said.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Alright," he said, conjuring up two chairs. "Sit down so you won't fall down."

She took the proffered chair and he took a seat as well and fiddled with the edge of his robes. "Do you know about the WWIA?" he asked.

Tonks smirked. "Of course I do, Sirius used to work there. Being the daughter of his favorite cousin – well what can you say?"

He smiled lightly. "Good, that only makes it easier for me," he admitted. "Here it is: Hermione's pretty high up in the ranks of the business branch and she's also apparently the top spy who's never been found out."

Tonks' face drained and her hair and eyes shifted rapidly through tons of colors and shapes as she lost control of her Metamorphmagus abilities in her surprise. "Are you serious?" she squeaked. "Do you realize the implications of this?"

He frowned. Hermione hadn't quite elaborated on her job. She'd only given them a rough sketch. "She's probably wanted by Voldemort more than you right now! Apparently there's been a rumor of a spy who's been dispatching hordes of his followers and finding loopholes for magical creatures to escape his magical contracts. That probably is Hermione! Where is she? She's going to get killed any moment!"

He sighed. "I just need you to go to the WWIA, seeing as you're a well-respected figure, and see if you can free up her schedule without displeasing anyone. We can't find Ginny without her Tonks," he said grimly. "It's the truth. It may be stark and bleary but it's the truth."

**The Lair**

A dingy room was poorly lit by several wall sconces. Brilliant green snakes had been carved into the stone, crimson tongue stuck out and pearly white teeth bared. Several black robed wizards and witches were clustered in a circle, faces hidden by white masks.

One junior Death Eater knelt in the center of the circle, bowing so low that he could have been licking the floor rather than trying to kiss his master's feet. He was young – only seventeen – and had been charged to bring news of the Lord's current plans as they were set in motion all throughout Europe.

"Report, Pathe!" spat the Dark Lord.

He was perched atop a stone throne with the crude likeness of snakes intertwined upon the head of the chair. He was in a foul mood after the news of an escaped prisoner had been brought to him just a few days ago. Apparently they had escaped several months ago but no one had bothered to check.

The young Death Eater bowed again, his voice coming out like that out a rat's – crude and scared. "M-m-m-my Lord," he stuttered. "W-w-we have n-n-not located _her_ yet. But t-t-the girl and the b-b-b-boy… t-t-they're here…"

His lipless mouth curled into a contorted smile. His voice changed to that of the sibilant snakes.

"Sssssoon you sssshall fffeast, Nagini," he hissed.

A large snake that lay upon the cold stone coiled up tightly and let out a hiss. Her tongue flickered out and tasted the cold dank air in the room. Her eyes seemed to register a type of reptilian hunger and elation.

"Fffffinally," she hissed.

**PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE! VERY IMPORTANT!**

**Author's Note**

_Alright, here's the situation: my grandparents are coming to stay tonight. I've worked really really hard to put this chapter up in one afternoon, so stay with me alright? Ok, my dad has them basically spying on us while they're here and they're probably going to be here for a few weeks. So far, I've been taking every other afternoon after school and devoting it entirely to typing. Whenever I have free time, I write. So when my grandparents come, I'll have less free time and I also can't type after school since I'm supposed to be doing projects in stuff._

_So, I'm not going to be able to update as regularly as I usually do. If I'm lucky, I might be able to get in a few chapters in the whole time they're here. Please don't hate me, the circumstances are out of my control. I'm just giving you a head's up. Also, don't abandon me because I don't update, I promise it's temporary._

_Oh yeah, don't get the wrong picture. My grandparents are awesome and really nice but I guess my dad just told them to "check up on us" every so often to see that we aren't fooling around or goofing off or stuff. Anyway, I'll try my best! Thanks for your time and click the review button to show your appreciation. :wink:_

_About the story: I know I'm changing POV's pretty often, but I find the shifting scenes to be more refreshing than concentrating on one character's plight. But don't worry, some will be merged soon enough. You'll see. Also, things are heating up, as you can see and Hermione's got more secrets than we've ever imagined! She's also been revealed to be quite emotionally devastated._

_Also, for those DHr lovers out there, the romance has yet to come. But don't fret your pretty heads (You'll need them to type reviews. :hehe:) about it, it'll happen in due time._

_Woah! Long Author's Note, anyway, on to my reviewer, or should I say reviewer? I suppose that everyone is busy so I won't chew your heads off for it. But what can I say? Read and review!_

_autumnxrain – Do you have to read the whole story over again? I'm sorry. :cries: Also, I sneak on the computer and work really hard to squeeze in time for a bit of homework throughout the day. I also wake up really early to study and stuff. Hah! I forgot that you were a high-schooler. Tehehehe… And yes, I do love undercover Hermione because.. ta da! I wrote more about her. _


	13. Chapter 12: Cruelty of War

Draco opened his eyes long after the incessant ringing had faded from his ears. His mind was wracked with emotional pain as he had analyzed all of the assumptions he'd made about his situation with Hermione. It was all clear now – Voldemort had gotten wind of his "treachery" and set several of his housemates to break them up. His pig-headedness had been used against him so that he'd only believe his side of the story.

"What have I done?" he whispered.

Ginny watched him with an impassive face, perched on a small pallet at the far end of the small cell. She was calling upon her small magical reserves to heal her ribs. Luckily, the bumbling Death Eater recruits had failed to notice that the bracelet Harry had given her could act as a focus. It was a crude replacement for a wand, but it was better than nothing.

She sighed and released the magic and looked down at her chest to see it glowing a faint blue. She winced slightly as the magic pieced together the broken bones but plowed on, sending more magic to the rest of her more serious injuries. Still ignoring Draco's muttering, Ginny swung her feet around and rested the tops of her shoes gently on the stone floor.

"Perhaps she'll understand," she commented off-handedly while rubbing her neck. It still ached where her attacker had positioned his crushing grip.

He looked up sharply, eyes full of disbelief and hurt. "How could you?" he nearly screamed. "How could you suggest that things could go back to normal?"

Her gaze hardened slightly but her obvious worry shone through like a beacon. "Dray," she whispered. "What have you got to lose?"

He concentrated on the floor, staring at a particular stone unblinkingly. He wouldn't meet her gaze. When he finally spoke, his words were slow and gave an air of someone who had chosen their words carefully. "Could you change?" he said softly.

To any normal outsider, it would seem like an odd request. However, understanding lit up in Ginny's eyes. But she hesitated. "Are you sure?" she asked.

He lifted his gaze so that her feet were within his range of vision. Weary eyes blinked twice and he licked his lips to moisten the cracked skin. "What have you got to lose?" he laughed in a small, bitter voice.

She glanced at him reproachfully before closing her eyes. Magic shifted slightly in the air and her form took on a silvery outline that resembled a precious metal. Her hands were unconsciously uplifted so that her palms faced upwards where the glow was slightly more concentrated. Slowly, her wavy hair became straight and gave off a luminous sheen like that of a celestial body. She grew about two inches taller and her eyes shifted colors underneath their lids. Her slim figure shifted slightly to accommodate the larger frame she was taking and her cheekbones became slightly more prominent while her lips appeared fuller and her fingers became long and tapered. She snapped open her eyes, breathing a bit unsteadily. Her hair was a long silvery blonde, and her eyes were gray. The same as Draco's…

**Worldwide Wizarding Intelligence Agency**

A slim brunette made her way past hordes of inactive agents that were giving a helping hand at researching their latest missions. She had a slightly stocky build and her deep blue robes swirled around as she walked, a small visitor's pin fastened below her elaborate family crest that had been proudly emblazoned upon the fabric.

In her hand she clutched a sheaf of papers held together by a small crudely fashioned metal clip, obviously inspired by the common muggle paper clip. She had a slight frown upon her glossed lips and a small wrinkle creased her normally smooth forehead. She suddenly slowed her brisk pace and scrutinized her surroundings.

She checked her gold watch and took her route down a lavishly furnished hall. She stopped about three fourths of the way down the hall and pushed open two large wooden doors. The smell of fresh leather hit her sensitive nose immediately twitched in slight disgust.

"Come in," came a slightly imposing voice. It came from no particular direction.

She frowned but directions that had been given to her earlier ran through her head. "Visitor Nymphadora Tonks, reporting in," she said clearly.

A flaming door of fire suddenly appeared in the executive suite. She flinched but otherwise remained impassive. She growled a little angrily at the idea of walking through fire. She'd always been afraid of that element since her older cousin had caught her sleeve on fire while reaching over the stove to get something.

Pushing back her fear she stepped tentatively through the door and was surprised to feel a cool breeze as she was brought through a strong ward. Her fingers tingled slightly and her spinning senses finally were calm enough to observe the rather small office that she was standing in.

"Ah, Tonks," murmured a slightly harried man. "Take a seat! Good to see you. Pray tell, how is Andromeda? And I'm very sorry to hear that young Black has passed on."

Her expression hardened at the mention of her favorite cousin. "Mother is fine, Dieythryn," she replied rather stiffly. "And Sirius died in the Battle of Wales two weeks ago."

He looked up at her, shuffling paperwork that he quickly set aside in a small basket. It vanished with a small puff of blue smoke.

"I'm sorry to hear," he said, peering at her through gold-rimmed spectacles. "I offer my condolences. However, what is it that you wanted? It's not often that my goddaughter pulls the family card to squeeze in a private meeting."

"It's simple," she said, handing him the papers that she'd carried through the building earlier. "I need Hermione."

He frowned as he scanned the signed forms. Muttering to himself he shuffled through the various papers and notes from the Order field agents. After what seemed like eternity, he looked up, a frown creasing his tired face.

"You can't have her," he said bluntly. It wasn't wise to sugar-coat things with Tonks.

She got out of the leather chair, flexing her fingers. "Why?" she asked, pacing around. "We need to get Ginny back. Perhaps you haven't noticed how important she is. It's in that claus-"

He cut her off with a stern look. "I've reviewed the documents, _Nymphadora_," he said, exasperated. "But you don't know how deep this lake is that you're diving into. She's one of my best, no she is _the_ best. She's operating several missions for me, one that's just come up since her new discovery. You just can't have her!"

She frowned, her pleasant face marred by the unpleasant look. "Things are at risk here, Dieythryn," she murmured.

He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Her life is at risk here if she's exposed!" he cried. "I can't lose her – not now."

Tonks changed tact, seeing her godfather ruffled. "Just two hours," she pleaded. "Two hours is all we need – a clean operation."

He sighed and slipped off the small spectacles, setting them upon her pile of paperwork. He rubbed his temple for a moment before settling back into his chair. "Fine," he said, looking older than before. "I'll give you two hours tonight. I'm expecting her back and on time before the clock strikes two."

She nodded and leaned over to peck him on a wrinkled cheek. "Thanks," she smiled.

**Potter Mansion**

"Order Meeting in session!" growled Moody, thumping his way to the front of the room.

The murmuring in the room instantly quieted as the ex-Auror stood at the front of the long dining table, magical eyes swiveling madly. Numerous redheads could be seen assembled beside other witches and wizards that the Order had managed to recruit since Harry's fifth year.

"How is Operation DCHG going, Tonks?" he barked, singling out the handler of their top-priority mission.

The currently brunette woman grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Two hours," she said contentedly. "Tonight at midnight – Dieythryn wants her back by two o' clock."

Moody grunted in appreciation and she settled back into her chair. "Ron," he suddenly growled. "Have you drafted an operation plan?"

The youngest male Weasley nodded and pointed his wand at the makeshift screen at the head of the table. "I've got the basic structure, but no one knows enough about Hermione to actually set up a useful plan," he admitted.

"Why don't you guys ever invite me?"

An Invisibility cloak was shed and several spells fell as half of the room turned around, wands raised. It was Hermione, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

She packed the silvery material away in her pockets and strode towards the front of the room. "It would make things much easier," she commented.

As she reached the front of the room, she pointed her wand at the diagram and a new picture reappeared. It resembled the outline of a typical Scottish fortress detailed with small black dots and two red dots at the bottom level.

She turned towards the rest of the Order. "Now, Ginny and Draco Malfoy are being held in a fortress in Scotland known as the 'Fort of the Lord', and this is a basic outline of it," she explained. "I found out that Draco was also being held there when I scouted the terrain earlier this morning. According to Ministry reports, he was captured at the same time as Ginny was."

"My Animagus form is a unicorn and I propose that I charge the front doors seeing as they're not warded. Any spells that hit me will be pretty much ineffectual considering a magical creature's strength. In case I don't get through, Phoenixes will be stationed around the fort where there are fewer sentries – at the west, north, and east," she proposed. "I can easily hang onto their aura trail and once I find them, a quick bit of running should get me out of the way before Voldemort finds out."

"Too risky," muttered the ravaged ex-Auror. "Too many 'if's' for an operation."

"It's the only way," she pointed out. "I can take the risk."

Ron nodded reluctantly. "Unicorns are immune to the Unforgivables," he offered. "That way less of our dwindling numbers will be sacrificed. There's an upcoming battle and we need to offer the Light side our support. Dying in a rescue mission is rather preposterous."

Hermione smiled triumphantly. "Until tonight," she said with a salute. With that, she disappeared leaving the room in quiet discomfort. They all knew that the gamble that she was taking was insurmountable – they could win or lose everything.

**Fort of the Lord – Scotland**

Draco smiled lightly, but inside his mind he was filled with immeasurable sadness. "Why?" he asked, his voice betraying his real feelings.

Ginny looked at him with sadness written upon her features. "Dray," she whispered. "What mother did was secure my life."

He turned away, suddenly guiltily aware of his selfishness. He felt rotten inside, slowly decaying while everyone else weathered all the hardships in life to reach happiness. Why couldn't he just accept things? Why did he have to question everything that others took in stride?

Ginny was lost in her own thoughts as well, her pearl-gray eyes did not reflect her mood like Draco's but a light of thought shone within. Suddenly, she got off the pallet and walked swiftly across the room. She sat in front of her brother and caught his chin, forcing his steely gray gaze to meet her own.

"Accept this, Draco," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Lucius would have killed me as you know. He believes girls to be weak and a hassle to raise. He believes that only a man can bring honor to the Malfoy name."

She could see the pain in his eyes, the pleading for her to stop. She didn't let go of his chin.

"Mother knew that I wouldn't live to be eleven – to experience the pleasures of Hogwarts. She knew what Lucius was thinking and what he was plotting," her voice was slowly rising. "She plotted to _save_ me, Dray. She did what she could to secure me the life that Lucius had willingly granted you – his 'only' worthy child. Sending me to the Weasley's was the best that she could do. My whole life has been revolving around my Metamorphmagus abilities and I've lived that life to its fullest extent. It's time for you to accept that I only left you alone at the Malfoy Manor to save whatever life I could possibly have."

A pearly tear glistened upon her flawless cheek. "Accept _me_ Draco," she murmured. "I've never stopped loving and longing for the brother that I never got to know."

He brought his hand up in a daze and gently took her hand off, enclosing it in a warm grip. He pulled her into a hug and a feeling of warmth flooded through him. He could hear her crying into his back and he smiled slightly, his eye color shifting to match hers.

"How could I not?" he whispered. "How could I not accept you Ginny?"

**The Lair**

"Bring them in!" hissed the Dark Lord.

He was in an impatient mood – the vampires had terminated their contract with the use of a loophole that one of his Death Eaters had unwittingly left exposed. His white hands clenched the carved stone armrests of his throne as his red eyes glowed with anger.

One of the newer recruits bowed and swept off into the consuming darkness of the poorly lit building. He snarled with coiled anger but he could feel a twisted sense of happiness sweeping through his emaciated body. It was an obvious solution for him – if he couldn't find the Mudblood, then he'd use her friend.

Ten minutes later he heard shrieking sounds outside of the room and he hissed contentedly. The distinct sound of an angry male voice carried farther than the female one, punctuated by a loud slap. Soon the doors burst open to reveal a tall blonde figure that was struggling viciously against the Death Eater's repulsed hold.

Voldemort's pupils dilated. "What is this?" he demanded.

The Death Eater stunned the young woman and hurried forward to bow at his master's feet. "She was in the cell, milord," he answered truthfully. "The redhead was nowhere to be seen. She was hugging the other prisoner, but I don't know where she came from."

A look of surprise and pleasure swept across his snake-like face as he tapped his bony fingers against the stone and waited as the Death Eater placed the prisoner in front of him. "No," he hissed. "They are not lovers. Come. See this?"

Ginny struggled futilely as he grasped her chin with burning hot fingers that seared her skin. He pulled viciously upwards so that her head was tilted back and her hair was swept away from her face.

"Lucius!" he barked.

A robed man stepped forth and removed his mask to reveal the cold features of her biological father. His prominent nose was pointed slightly upwards and he regarded her face with cold blue eyes. Recognition dawned upon his features and his thin lips curled into a wicked smile.

"Ah, yes," he said, kneeling down so that he'd be at eye level with her. "Narcissa shall pay dearly for this."

"Would you like to deal with her accordingly?" asked the Dark Lord. "You have much to… catch up on."

Lucius looked surprised but smiled and bowed. "Thank you, master," he said reverently. "She will get what was due to her years ago."

He nodded and the young Death Eater from before dragged her back out the door. "Save it until the festivities tonight," he said. It wasn't up for questioning.

**The Dungeons**

The Death Eater dragged Ginny down into the darkness of the dungeons and threw the hysterical young woman rather roughly, back into the holding cell. Releasing his spell he locked the door and smiled wickedly at her.

"A shame that Narcissa decided to take you away," he said with fake sympathy. "You're a pretty one, but you're just as filthy as the blood-traitors that raised you."

He tramped off and Draco immediately darted out of his corner and cradled her head like he'd done for her years ago when they had learned that they would be separated.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry I made you change."

She lifted her head out of his comforting grip and fixed haunted eyes upon him. "It was inevitable," she said quietly. "Going to the Weasley's was a bad idea to start with – they haven't had a girl in the family for three generations. It was a horrible cover."

He looked helplessly at her. "So he's letting Lucius punish you?" he asked fearfully.

She nodded and bit her lip. "But he won't get to," she said fiercely, her eyes lighting up. "I can sense that Hermione's going to come."

He sighed and settled back against the wall and closed his eyes. "I hope that you're right," he murmured.

**Hermione's Flat – 11:45 P.M**

Hermione pulled her hair into a high ponytail and tied it securely with a small elastic band and added a spell of two to make sure that it wouldn't get in her way. She wiped off the shiny gloss that she'd applied earlier and wiped off all of her makeup – the lotions and creams would attract light and attention that she didn't need or want tonight.

In her room, she slipped on a tight pair of black pants that had been charmed to not make any sound or restrict her movements. A black t-shirt followed, revealing her tanned and muscled arms. Black gloves that only covered the backs of her hands and palms had been supplied by Fred and George to allow maximum grip whenever she had to climb anywhere. She unclipped her dangly silver earrings and inserted small black pearls that would allow her to relay information to the Order headquarters when she was in human form.

She sighed and left the room, a second wand in its holster attached to her leg. She had decided to carry her wand which would disappear as soon as she transformed. In her living room, several Order members had gathered with Harry and the Weasleys to back her up in the mission.

Harry gave her an approving nod. "I can see why you're the best," he commented off-handedly. "Robes would attract attentions and would easily snag on something."

She smiled and fastened a muggle watch on her wrist. "Let's just say muggles have ways to get things done inconspicuously too," she said with a wry smile. "But dragon hide clothing also gives you an advantage."

Ron turned around, concern visible on his pale face. "Don't kill yourself tonight," he said, trying not to let his fear for her show. "I still need to strangle you for taking this risk."

She laughed and gave him a thumbs up as she addressed the assembled group. "You all know your positions, so let's go!" she said. "Here are your emergency Portkeys that will be activated once you say 'Tommy Marvolo Riddle'. Don't get hurt Phoenixes! Also, watch for my signal – one green will be one successful escape, two will be both victims accounted for, red will be a temporary setback, blue will be the order to charge, and white will be failure and the call to retreat."

The witches and wizards nodded gravely and stepped up to receive the Portkeys that ranged from thimbles to mangle bits of metal. Hermione felt arms engulf her and craned her neck to see Mrs. Weasley hugging her. "I'll be careful," she promised.

With that, she disappeared.

**Outside the Fort of the Lord – 12:00 P.M.**

Hermione appeared silently, crouching in the thick forest's shelter. She silently picked her way through the leaves and dead tree branches that littered the forest floor. Her eyes darted around as she scanned the area for any magical creatures acting as sentries – there were none yet.

She soon cleared the forest and silently slipped from rock to tree as she closed in on the dark fortress. She almost laughed aloud – Voldemort had not thought to get rid of things that could serve as shields or places to hide. It was really more of a muggle technique - which explained why.

Diving into the temporary safeguarding branches of a large bush, she checked her watch to see that the digital readout had stopped flashing. There was a ward, but not one strong enough to blank out the screen.

A quick tweak of the intruder ward allowed her in with ease. The courtyard was abandoned but she could hear the sounds of rowdy celebration within. Hermione silently cursed – they had already started celebrating. There was no telling what they'd do with the prisoners.

She emptied her mind and lightly scanned the inhabitants of the fortress. Draco was still in the cell but Ginny was absent. She frowned. There was no time to lose; she would have to get Draco first.

Morphing into the graceful form of a unicorn, she charged at the wooden doors that kept her out of the fortress. The age-worn wood gave in quite easily and two Death Eaters that had been sent to guard the door where quickly overwhelmed by the surprise element of her charge.

Hermione smiled inwardly and morphed back into a human, slinking in the shadows, going past clueless guards. She had cast an ancient version of the notice-me-not charm that was specifically designed to be cast upon someone of muggle parentage. Having a muggle father gave her the qualifications and none of the wizards noticed her stealthy form. She was lucky so far – all of the guards were junior Death Eaters. Her simple charm wouldn't hold under the quick thinking minds of the Inner Circle members.

She stole into the dungeons where Voldemort had failed to post guards. After all, everyone was behind bars. She silently unlocked the door and handed Draco a Portkey soundlessly.

"Tommy Marvolo Riddle," she whispered, putting a finger to his lips.

He nodded in understanding and she saw a hint of humor within his dark gray eyes. A murmured phrase rendered him safe. She smiled a little uneasily and shot one green flare out the small cell window that could only be seen by people who did not wear or give the Dark Mark.

It was all too easy and she knew that recovering Ginny would be the worst part. Breaking in was easy with no one around to stop her, but her friend was undoubtedly with the Death Eaters – with Lucius. Goosebumps dotted her skin as she closed the cell door and made her way up the winding staircase.

Her breath caught as she saw that the Death Eaters had moved to the ground floor. There were possibly thirty of them and her eyes instinctively flicked around the room, recording escape routes. The only way out was to go across the room to the next flight of stairs.

She pushed away her worries and scanned the vicinity for Ginny and sensed the young woman's presence at the top of the fortress. She swallowed a lump in her throat knowing that there were anti-Apparition wards that could not be broken through – they had been reinforced by the large amount of Dark Marks present.

The only way to get past everyone was to take the element of surprise and run. She swiftly morphed into a unicorn and charged quickly through the large ballroom.

Startled shouts came from about the room as several Death Eaters launched curses that glanced harmlessly off of her magical creature form. A pang in her chest resounded duly through her senses as she noticed the silver-edged robes that indicated a member of the Inner Circle.

"Use knives!" she heard MacNair shout. "Quickly! It's getting away!"

Most of the partygoers were inexperienced in the art of throwing blades so she escaped most of the missiles with a few twists. The higher members who had been trained in mostly every aspect of weaponry managed to score several hits on her back, ripping the silky white coat.

Her heart hammered madly as she did her best to avoid the shower of steel and silver. It was no use – her Animagus form was too large. Releasing the large amount of magic holding the magical form in place, she slipped back into her normal form, rolling and ducking as the space between her and the stairwell decreasing with a blinding speed.

As they had momentarily lost sight of her as she blended well into the shadowy part of the cavernous room, she glanced to her side to see several Death Eaters closing in on the stairwell, planning to block any possible means of escape.

Hermione cursed under her breath and quickly morphed into the unicorn form, planning to run over them with her superior strength. The magic was harder to reach and morphing took a few seconds longer than usual. Within the recesses of her mind she could feel the emptiness of the area where her extra magical reserves were kept – she was nearly drained.

"_Ginny,_" she thought fiercely. "_I won't lose her!"_

With heightened resolve, she plowed through a small bunch of the robed figures, feeling the sickening crunch of broken bones under her pounding hooves. She was almost free!

However, a woman standing near the banquet table charged at her and Hermione saw a glint of a blade before a searing pain shot through her flank. She was duly aware of the blood that rushed out but tried to block out the sensation.

Twisting away from the knife, she felt the Death Eater cry out in pain as the silvery unicorn blood caused her to lose her hold on the knife. The blood of the Pure Ones marked her arms, staining them horribly, unable to be removed or concealed. A male Death Eater blocked her way but Hermione trampled him with strong hooves.

Within her rapidly beating heart, she felt a cry of guilt in her mind as the man's anguished cry rang in her ears as screaming and shouted orders were issued below her. A quick teleport got her to the top of the fortress and she saw the small huddled form of Ginny and a taller figure looming over her – Lucius.

With her mouth open in a soundless snarl, she charged and saw the man's surprise but he reflexively pulled out a small knife from his waist and brandished it in the air.

"Come on," he hissed. "We'll fight O Mighty One."

His tone was mocking and cruel and Hermione knew instantly that her strength was slipping and staying in the powerful form of a unicorn was out of the question. She morphed back into her human form, tossing a Portkey to Ginny who knew the customary activation phrase.

Lucius howled and charged at her, eyes cold and filled with fury. Hermione quickly wrenched the knife out of her thigh and parried his frenzied blow. Setting her stance firmly, she twisted out of the way as he came in with a strike at her stomach. The blades met and held for a moment as she glared at him, matching every bit of determination in his eyes with her own.

His eyes glowed with the madness and injured air of a wounded creature. "You shall not live to see your friend," he snarled.

She was silent and barely fought off a heavy blow to her midsection. The gleaming blade caught on the fabric of her shirt, tearing a small part away and leaving an angry red line in its wake.

His expression now grew more confident and his tone mocking. "It shall be your pretty neck the next time," he hissed.

Blow after blow Hermione realized that they were evenly matched. Her injuries had lowered her bladesmanship to his level. There was no way out. She gritted her teeth as he struck at her shoulder and hit his mark when she had failed to move fast enough.

He let out a feral snarl of triumph and redoubled his attack with renewed vigor. The only way to get him out of the way was to somehow disarm him. Wandless magic was out of the question – her magic levels were depleted after transforming for so long.

Suddenly, Lucius slipped past her tired defenses and Hermione quickly twisted her blade up to meet his. As they each struggled to gain the upper hand, she was struck with an idea. If his blade was stuck in her, he'd have no weapon.

A glint of newfound determination lit up in her eyes and she let him past a hole in her defenses and leaned forward to accept the impact of the blade. He looked victorious as his knife sank into a space between her ribs and she whirled on him with a fierce cry.

The ferociousness of the attack startled the man and her blade found its mark – deep in his chest. She felt a wave of blackness begin to surge forth and claim her. Hermione bit her lip and struggled to stay alert and in control of her senses. Letting out a shaky breath, she knelt down next the dying form of the senior Malfoy.

"Play with fire and you'll get burned," she panted heavily, pulling her ponytail out to let her silky hair tumble down to form the face that Lucius would recognize as 'that Mudblood.'

Anger and shock passed through his weakening body but before he could summon the energy to reply, his eyes glazed over in death. Hermione was faintly aware of a blood red soul being wrenched out of his lifeless body and disappearing into the earth with an earsplitting shriek.

Her vision had become foggy and unfocused. Her fingers grazed the velvety cloth that signified her special Portkey. She smiled faintly.

"Home," she said softly, her eyes fluttering shut.

Sheets of cold rain began to fall from the darkness of the heavens above. The splattering wetness soon found its mark upon the cold figure of Lucius Malfoy. As the world was drenched in sadness, there was rejoice in two families, but one young woman lay at home surrounded by friends instead of family. This was the price of war. This is still the price of war – the loss of family and friends. The replacement figures may or may not always be there. This is the cruelty of death.

**Author's Note**

_Don't ask me what miracle occurred that allowed me to update so soon. My grandparents are still here, but apparently I can still find time to type. Also, as promised, this chapter is longer and more action packed. I'm not too please with my fight scene, but I'll have to worry about that later. My top priority is to provide my loyal readers with a new chapter – so enjoy! _

_Also, don't forget the classic rule – read and review! I have tons of people who have added me to their C2 Communities, Favorite Story/Author List, and Author Alert list and I thank you for that. However, I treasure all reviews that are given. Feedback would be awesome. :wink:_

_Wow, I probably have said that three times already… Sorry!_

_**Pet Peeve**: People who don't update and when they do, it's a one paragraph chapter so full of grammar errors that it's hard to read, much less understand! And what's the worst part? It gets around 50 raving reviews that I haven't even gotten after 12 chapters. :sigh: There is no justice in this world._

_autumnxrain – I worked pretty hard on cooking up the dreams. :smiles: I'm glad you liked it. I thought that entering a chapter like that was a little risky seeing as no one knows what I'm really talking about but its intriguing nevertheless. More on the betrayal here! _

_emilliecow8 – Aw, that's so nice! I'm serious – when you say that it makes me feel so warm inside. :smiles: And also, remember Draco is very proud and he won't always just go an beg forgiveness. That's why D/Hr is so intriguing._

_Que Bonita - :frowns: I don't know why I don't have many reviews. I've got loyal reviewers, but sometimes its really sad to see so much feedback being given to horrible stories and mine getting none. Sure, it's not the best, but showing appreciation is awesome. Thanks!_

_dancrchick – That's so nice! Also, the complications and the 'Ron thing' add a little spice into my plot. They're there so I can fool around with more of Rowling's characters and see what I can make them do while making them stay semi-in character. The attack of the grandparents… We should coin that term. :laughs:_


	14. Chapter 13: The Balance of Life

_Hermione felt a feeling of serenity wash over her as the guilt and crushing pressures that had piled up upon her shoulders during the past few years dissipated. Her eyes were closed but her senses could feel a comforting presence near her. She could almost feel the blood that marked her as a killer slide off of her leaving innocence radiating off of pearly skin. A warm hand had settled on her shoulder and she felt almost lost in the peace of mind that it gave her._

_Her eyelids flew open slowly as she look in her surroundings. A warm glow bathed the room, illuminating a humbly cluttered room. She was lying upon a worn couch that sank slightly whenever she shifted her weight. The walls were crudely made of weathered logs that were decorated with small paintings of golden brown paintings of autumn landscapes._

_A small table was in front of her, sitting upon stout wooden legs and laden with a small tray. A few china pieces were proudly displayed there, cracked and carefully mended by hand. A throw rug was below it, attracting her attention through its complex embroidery depicting ancient Greek gods and goddesses of old._

_A scythe leaned against the scarred walls in one corner of the room. The rest of the area was furnished similarly – all of which leant to the idea that the building belonged to a humble farmer. _

"_I have waited long to meet you," said a voice._

_It came from behind her and resonated through the room with an air of ancient wisdom and ease. She wasn't alarmed by the foreign voice but the voice gave her a feeling that she was with a close family member instead of a friend. She turned around slowly and came face-to-face with an elderly man._

_His countenance was unmarred by any signs of weariness or guilt. She felt calm radiating off of his aura that showed his contentment and a life absent from sins and evil thoughts. His face was leathery and creased with wrinkles that seemed to be laugh lines. Those were the only features that betrayed his age – his build was lithe and strong. He was garbed in curious clothes that were roughly made as if the sewer was in a hurry when the garments had been made. _

"_Who are you?" she asked, unable to hide her evident puzzlement._

_His brow creased as his wrinkled mouth sagged into a frown. She could faintly hear his broad fingers tapping on the wooden armrests of his chair. He wasn't troubled but curious and a little disappointed._

"_Who I am is not of any concern," he said at last. "I was send by the gods to remind you of your duty."_

"_Gods?" she queried. "What do you mean by that?"_

_This time, her question brought a gleeful laugh from the old man. The laugh was not the wheezing cough of the elderly, but the joyful pealing laughter of a young boy. Merriment twinkled in his eyes that she noticed were an unnatural obsidian black._

"_My dear," he said kindly, "I speak of the deities of this world! It would be wrong to say that the Greek gods and goddesses exist. No, that would not do at all. I suppose it would be best to say that the Greeks were acutely aware of the gods above. What you have now discredited as myths are actually reasonably accurate stories."_

_Her mind whirled as she tried to piece the information together. It didn't make any sense to her. Why would the gods and goddesses allow evil to reign in the land? Why would they allow the Greek empire to flourish and then fall when they were the civilization that believed and worshipped them?_

"_You are young and almost naive to the workings of the heavens," he said, reading her thoughts. "There is no life without death, no rise without a fall, and no goodness without evil. We all are centered on balance. The balance keeps the world alive in more ways than one – we do not exist without it._

_It made sense – almost painfully. Balance was crucial to so many things. If peace went on forever, the people of the land would eventually become discontent with their humdrum lives._

"_But nevertheless," he said, plowing on. "I was sent by the gods to remind you of the duty that you owe to yourself."_

"_I am fine," she said, nearly distraught with worry. "It is those who I can't help that suffer. How many lives will be cut down before they flourish because of an error in my ways? How many tears shall be shed because I made the wrong move? How many nights will be spent alone because _I_ was too selfish?"_

_He took her hands and clasped them in his own. "My daughter, these things are beyond your control. You have given your innocence and your way of life to save hundreds, nay, thousands. It is because of you that families reunite at the fall of night each day. Why is that considered trivial in your mind?"_

_She met his gaze, her brown eyes swimming in confusion and helplessness. "What right do I have to choose the happiness of one over another's? I am not a god – these decisions that I am making are not my birthright. What gives me the right to kill another because they have different views and priorities than I? What gives me the right to say that my life is worth more than my opponent's?"_

_He smiled sadly as he inspected her with his black eyes. "It is not your right," he agreed. "But it is neither your right to contemplate the workings of fate. You do what you must to ensure your survival and the well-being of those close to you. Is that not honorable in your mind?"_

"_Then I am no better than my opponent. I fight to survive and push forth my ideas that I believe to be best. If we are equal, then why must I be the one to triumph in battle?" she asked._

"_You are not equals," he said gently. "You have spent sleepless nights mourning every death and every drop of blood that has stained your hands. Evil does not repent its sins. You even mourn what is not yours to mourn."_

_She looked confused. "What do you mean? I have killed many, perhaps more than I have saved. What balance is there in my life?"_

"_You mourn the death of your parents whom you did not kill. They died knowing that you had come – they died in peace. What you committed was no crime, nay, it was mercy. You, Hermione, are blessed with compassion. That in itself provides balance."_

_She shook her head. "Death is the same. My parents will never wake up to experience the beauty of life. Neither will any other man or woman that have departed from the world of living by my hand."_

"_You will understand in time," he said sadly. "For now I must leave you – your friends are calling."_

"_But who are you?" she asked, repeating her earlier query as the room began to dissolve and fade._

_He smiled slightly. "I am Chronus."_

"Hermione?"

The young woman in question opened her eyes and felt a blinding light sear through her vision. She closed her eyes and tried to speak. Her tongue felt heavy and foreign. The words that tumbled from her mouth were soft and almost difficult to utter.

"Wha..? Ginny…."

She tried to sit up but felt a blistering pain shot through her body. She could feel heavy bandages wrapped around her ribcage and several more on her thigh and leg. They were bound skillfully – the work of a mediwitch or wizard.

"Be careful," said a voice.

She cracked open an eye and was greeted by the blurry faces of Ron and Harry. "Hi," she said faintly.

Ron smiled and helped her ease into a sitting position. "You gave us quite a scare last night," he said truthfully. "And I don't want to know what Dieythryn is going to do to us. It's 10 o' clock and you're not exactly 'the way you were before we borrowed you'."

She smiled slightly and tested her broken bones. "What happened? Is Ginny alright? Did Draco get here?" she asked, the words tumbling out like an unstoppable river. "Did anyone get hurt? _What happened last night_?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat next to her bed as Ron gave him a look. "You came back through a Portkey and you hadn't shot up the last green flare so we were a little over the edge. After everything cleared up, we found that you'd been knifed – something we hadn't been expecting," he admitted. "When we got you cleaned up we found that none of the magical pain-relieving remedies worked to their full extent. The knives were poisoned so that you would still feel phantom pains."

"Wonderful," she said with a hint of sarcasm. "How long will it last?"

Ron piped up this time. "A few days," he supplied. "But either way Dieythryn is going to skin us all alive. We don't know much about your missions, but you're probably needed whole."

"What of Ginny? What about Draco?" she pressed.

"They're fine," reassured Harry. "Ginny was only slapped around by Lucius and Draco was just a bit dirty and his Mark was bothering him."

"He's taken the Mark?" she cried.

"No," he said looking rather thoughtful. "Apparently Voldemort was able to forge some sort of connection with him to mark him as a _Proditor Mali, _Betrayer of Evil. There's this mark on his left forearm of a blood-covered sword with a snake around its hilt and blade. It causes him pain sometimes, a bit like my scar, but it doesn't act like an alarm."

Hermione abruptly swung her legs around and set them on the floor. Bracing herself, she winced slightly as she stood, leaning on a conjured staff. "I'm going to see him," she said resolutely.

Ron looked worried but Harry held him back. "Go," he said, smiling faintly.

She gave him a nod of thanks and walked out of the small makeshift area of her living room. Ron immediately whirled on Harry, worry evident in his eyes. "How could you let her go?" he asked.

He smiled slightly and pulled Ron back into his seat. "There aren't answers for everything," he said matter-of-factly. "Sometimes you act."

He got up without another word and left through the door, leaving Ron to stare in his wake. And for once the redhead was left to ponder over the words. What did he mean? A small nagging voice in his head came up with a thought. Perhaps he would help with the current situation at hand – then he would seek out Katelyn. He would find his angel without wings.

A look of contentment washed over his countenance. Yes, that would be best. She was beautiful and intriguing and he'd been a bachelor for too long. He'd had to sit on the sidelines and watch as Harry and Ginny's relationship blossomed. Ron got up to follow his two friends. As he crossed the short distance, a troubling thought came across his mind.

His hand hovered over the doorknob as he pondered the thought uncertainly. What if it fell apart like Hermione's life had? It was hard to admit, but Ron was afraid of rejection more than anything else. "_Why is it that Hermione is so capable of forgiveness?" _he thought bitterly. "_Why is she able to love even after Draco broke her heart? Why is she so fearless? Why is she so blessed?"_

A slight flare of anger stormed through his blue eyes. It wasn't directed towards Hermione, but it was himself that he was mad at. He turned the doorknob and pushed outwards.

"_When our eyes see our hands doing the work of our hearts, the circle of Creation is completed inside us, the doors of our souls fly open and love steps forth to heal everything in sight_," he thought, remembering a famous quote.

**Hermione's Guest Room (Draco)**

Draco sat upon the tidy bedcovers of the guest room. He was absent-mindedly fingering the edge of the cotton comforter, but his thoughts were elsewhere. It had been just a few hours ago when Hermione had burst into his cell and set him free.

A painfully icy hand gripped his heart as he remembered the scene. She had looked mysteriously beautiful as she tossed him a Portkey and whispered the magical activation words. It was almost odd that she had chosen such a humorous phrase for a serious purpose, but the new things that were slowly revealed to him always settled peacefully in his mind. Why could he accept such things and yet he couldn't bring himself to admit his past wrongs?

She had looked like his savior and yet she had no idea that he had finally reconciled with his inner demons. Hermione had come to save him even though Ginny wasn't with him. She had saved him even though he still held fast his façade of hate and distaste.

"_Why can't I accept her?"_ he thought. "_Why can't I admit my faults?"_

Suddenly, a knock at his door startled him out of his thoughts. "Come in," he called, a tad annoyed for being interrupted.

The door swung in slightly and a robed Hermione entered. Her hair was down and it framed a set of unmasked eyes that showed obvious worry and care. She crossed the room and settled next to the bed.

Draco could feel his heart thumping madly and tried to swallow a lump in his throat. His mouth felt parched like a desert and his hands had lost all feeling. Doubt and hope muddled his mind as the room swam out of focus. The only thing that he could see was _her_.

She placed a gentled hand on his sweaty palm. She clasped it slowly, as if waiting for a sharp insult or a demand to leave him alone. "Draco," she whispered. "Look at me."

He wouldn't meet her eyes. Perhaps he had lost all control of his body; perhaps he _couldn't_ meet the eyes of someone he had wounded so badly. "I can't," he said, speaking as if his words were on fire. "You don't understand…"

"I'm the only one," she said. "I'm the only one who could possibly understand."

"Why won't you look at me? Why do you go on, refusing any reconciliation? Why can we not settle this and live our lives?" she cried, her hands quivering.

"_No!" _he said, turning to face her. "You don't know what I am!"

She searched his eyes with a sadly resigned gaze. "And you, I," she said.

He yanked his hand out of her grasp and leapt off of the bed. "What are you?" he said mockingly. "The Golden Gryffindor Girl? The perfect angel? The one who's haunted my dreams for the past three years? What can be so bad about that? You have _no_ idea what I am capable of."

She shook her head sadly – he could see the brown locks quivering and swaying with the movement. "I have killed many, Draco," she said. "I stand before you, willing to show you. I have seen horrors that some cannot possibly even imagine. I stand before you, willing to admit to these crimes. And do you know why? You stole a part of my heart and it is now demanding that I heal this rift."

"Do you not listen?" she asked, her tone now pleading. "Do you not listen to your heart?"

He turned slowly around, his mind was still jumbled but he could sense the hurt in her air and manner. He had hurt her again. He quickly was at her side. "How can I? How are you able to do this? I've hurt you so…" he said, trailing off.

"The past is that, Draco, the past. We cannot change or undo our foolish actions. We cannot pretend that the hurt never existed. We can, however, learn to live, to cope with our burdens, and help each other."

He looked at her wonderingly. "Promise me that you'll never leave," he whispered, noticing the diminishing space between them.

"Promise me that you'll never forget," she said softly. "Promise me that you'll remember what the cost of this is."

He took her hand is his. "I promise, and I know your feelings to be the same."

She laughed slightly, her eyes sparkling with delight. "If there's anything that you should know, then know to never wait for love."

"Forever."

She placed her mouth over his. The kiss was not a statement, it was a question. His gaze flicked up to meet her eyes for the first time in three years. He saw the hope that shone, but he also saw the fiery determination that had held them together years before. His mouth captured hers in acceptance.

They were two lovers that had tried to avoid destiny. They had been pulled apart but now they were taking the tentative steps towards a new day. Forgiveness, after all, is the key to freedom of the soul.

**Hermione's Guest Room (Ginny)**

Harry slipped into the darkened room where the blinds filtered out most of the mid-morning sunshine. He smiled as his eyes picked out her small figure upon the white bedspread, her flaming hair spread out on the pillow, like splashes of color in a bland world.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," he said softly.

The witch's eyes fluttered open and she smiled as she saw Harry. "I'm glad you're here," she said contentedly.

He stroked her cheek tenderly and his voice broke a little. "I thought that I had lost you," he whispered.

"Never," she said, cuddling up to him. "I will always be with you."

"I never thought that Lucius would find out – and at all places!"

She set a cool finger on his lips. "Shhh…" she soothed. "What matters is that Hermione got me out. What matters is that we still have each other when so many others don't have their families."

He lowered his head and a single tear drew a watery path down his face. "It's so empty, so frightening, to be alone," he whispered, his voice cracking. "It was torture to just wait there like Hermione had ordered us to do. It took all I had to remember my duty to my comrades but my duty to you was tearing me apart. How could I stay there while you were at the hands of that _monster_?"

Ginny brushed away the crystalline tear and wiped away the mark that it had left in its wake. "Do not confuse those duties that you hold," she said firmly. "Let yourself decide between them when their paths cross. I'm not made of glass – I can hold my own ground. I may not be the best at dueling but don't forget that I was in the D.A. I am going to fight alongside of you for all the battles that may come our way. Focus on the Dark Side, I'm in good hands. We have Ron, Hermione, and all of the Order to back us up."

"It's so hard!" he said, his voice rising in agitation. "The thought of you in danger tears me up. Yes, you're my Achilles heel. This fear haunts me through the nights and floats in my mind like a ghostly specter by day."

"You're not the one that has to fight Voldemort alone!" she exclaimed. "Just because you bear his mark doesn't mean that you're going to be the one to take him down. We're all together on this as a team. One person doesn't defeat an evil that has plagued this land for a decade."

He buried is face in her hair, rocking her slightly, as if out of habit. "I just hope that you're right." he murmured.

**The Lair**

In the moment of all the love that was beginning to flow and bloom, Tom was raging, alone in the bowels of his fortress.

"How?" he screamed. "How can one _Mudblood_ do this?"

Servants cowered outside of the door, afraid to enter and afraid of what punishments might be dished out if they didn't deliver the Lord's meal. Death Eaters were assembled in the room, denied the right to tend to their wounds. They lay upon the cold stone, facing the wrath of their master.

"MacNair!" he hissed. "What happened?"

A figure hastily got up and bowed directly in front of the raging Lord. "It was the Granger girl," he said, his voice dripping in genuine apology. "She charged through in a unicorn Animagus form, but we did get in quite a few hits with poisoned knives."

"Where is Bellatrix?" he demanded, red eyes glowing with suppressed impatience.

"Here, master," replied a dark figure.

"Find her," he hissed. "Then bring her to me. Do not fail me Bellatrix. That would be one time too many…"

She bowed and swept out of the room leaving the other Death Eaters alone to suffer. She chuckled slightly; the Lord did not take failure lightly. Luckily,_ she_ would not fail him.

**Author's Note**

_Aw, fluff! Ew, well I probably botched that up. Hermione and Draco are not officially together though. Just keep that in mind. They're going to give it a go but who knows what could happen? Oooh… :cackles evilly:_

_Anyway, review! I'm surprised that I was able to write this much, but I was really good so my parents let me on the computer. So, enjoy!_

_emilliecow8 – Mission Impossible? Nice. :smiles: And yes, Ginny as a Malfoy was a cool twist wasn't it? Fics usually make Hermione a Zambini or something, but I don't think Ginny Malfoy ever came up. Thanks!_

_autumnxrain – I thought that scene was done pretty well. And I think Ginny/Draco is alright. Obviously DHr is better though._

_dancrchick – I'm glad that you can let your imagination run wild. :winks: Mannequins? Ew, that'd be a bit like _House of Wax_ wouldn't it? Anyway, thanks!_


	15. Chapter 14: Love Heals All Wounds

"Hermione, I'm confused…"

The brunette in question tilted her head up; averting her gaze from the book she had been engrossed with just seconds ago. Several locks of hair fells back to reveal startled brown eyes flecked with honey and cinnamon. She set down the small novel on the table beside her and settled back into her couch where she could feel Draco's steady breathing against her neck.

"What are you confused about?" she asked, concentrating on creating a small sound barrier between herself and the Slytherin prince. His peaceful expression made it seem as if the realm of dreams was his only escape from the horrors that he had to endure in his waking hours.

Harry watched as she created the shimmering wall of air and gently placed it between her body and Draco's before letting the strands of magic reshape itself and settle down upon his skin.

"I wasn't… thinking clearly when you had discovered the ability to do wandless magic," he admitted, turning his head around slightly. "Don't children perform wandless magic often? How are they able to do that?"

She laughed slightly, letting loose a pure flute-like sound that resounded through the small sectioned-off living room. "Harry, what children do is wandless indeed, but it isn't _wandless magic_," she said, eyes sparkling with mirth.

The raven-haired wizard looked slightly disgruntled and put up a hand in mock-defeat. "Alright, so my observations were wrong," he muttered. "Still, do you know what they do?"

Letting her laughter fade away and regaining her composure, Hermione summoned two mugs of coffee. "I haven't had any this morning," she said by means of explanation. "Care for some?"

Harry accepted the warm drink and cupped the hot ceramic in inviting hands. An overwhelming sensation overtook his mouth as the thick liquid pooled in his mouth, hinting at mixtures of smooth caramel, spicy cinnamon, and a cloying taste that he couldn't place. His head cleared slowly, as if he had taken a cold shower to shock his system.

"What's the new ingredient?" he asked, nearly forgetting about his task at hand.

"My secret," she said with a wave of her hand. "But nevertheless, I suppose you deserve to know what wizarding children are capable of."

"As I clarified before, they don't perform feats that ordinary wizards are not capable of," she continued. "What they use is a form of wishing magic that is highly unreliable and only present in children and strong-willed wizards and witches. If someone is lucky, one performance of wishing magic will occur in their entire lifetime; any more is unlikely and rarer than the first."

Harry mulled this over before forming another question. "Is it possible to use actual wandless magic accidentally?"

"No, I suppose not," she admitted. "To perform wandless magic, you have to be acutely aware of its properties and possess a strong will and determination to do it. Weaving magic is a tricky thing – those with the gift don't even know how to use it."

He sighed and rotated the mug around, distributing new heat to his numb fingers. Brown liquid swirled around slowly as if it was a thought in a Pensieve. A thought suddenly struck him, fueled by the odd stimulating similarity. "Have you looked at that memory yet?" he asked abruptly.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and favored him a questioning glance. "No, I haven't. Do you want me to look at it now?"

He shook his head. "No, just remember to look at it soon. Alright?" he pressed. "I have an odd feeling that the final battle is closing upon us a lot sooner than we thought before."

She still had a quizzical expression on her face, but she nodded her head to signify her consent to his wishes. Seeing that she had bound the promise, Harry Disapparated from the living room.

Behind her body, she felt Draco stirring and gently lifted the ward from his sprawled form. With the release of the _Somnus _charm that had been spelled into the ward, the blonde blinked open his eyes.

"What time is it?" he yawned, stretching a little, but still keeping a firm hold on her.

She smiled and glanced at her delicate silver watch. "12 o' clock," she replied. "Do you want any lunch?"

He soon resumed his sitting position and shifted himself so that his chin would rest lightly upon her crown of silky brown hair. "Not yet," he said. "Do you have anything for me to do? I'm not in the mood for eating quite yet."

She pulled gently away from him and got up, gesturing for him to follow. They soon arrived outside of a plain looking wooden door and Hermione gently pushed the door in. Draco's eyes widened as he saw the orderly flasks of potions and ingredients lined up against finely carved wooden shelves. Potions books and charts were spread across the spacious room, positioned so that the potion brewer would have no trouble when looking at one to reference to a certain ingredient.

He turned to see Hermione's apologetic expression. "It's probably nothing near what you have at the Manor," she said with a slightly remorseful voice. "But I thought that perhaps… you still enjoyed brewing..."

He gave her a chaste peck on her strawberry-scented lips. "It's wonderful," he assured her. "I sold a large part of my laboratory to cover for debts."

"Debts?" she mused out loud.

A shadow passed over the man's tanned face and a flicker of darkness could be seen in his pained gray eyes. "The Malfoy Fortune is gone," he said slowly as if the delay would help stop the pain.

Hermione looked at him, searching his eyes. She could only see sadness and despair – the money that had maintained his lifestyle and reputation was gone. Taking a gulp of fresh air, she summoned a small sheaf of parchment. "Here," she said haltingly. "I'm not sure why I have it…."

He took the fragile documents and as he read through them, his expression flickered from incredulous to wondering. "How…?" was all her could manage.

She sighed and sat down on a wooden stool and motioned for Draco to do the same. "You know that I am the heiress to the Ravenclaw line, right?" she asked, trying to see how much she would explain; seeing his nod, she continued. "I somehow got tangled up in the Malfoy Fortune as well. Lucius… I don't know what he was doing, but he said he wouldn't help my company, the WWIA, but then changed his mind. I'm not sure what's been going on, but since I've become of age three years ago, your fortune has become unstable since I stood to inherit it."

"The loss of control made him reckless and your fortune was further depleted as he wildly signed contracts, trying to restore order. In the process, he also unwittingly signed blood contracts that bound him to several dark organizations. I've sorted most of this out, but I can't seem to terminate his contract with Voldemort," she explained. "Your mark seems to be the crucial binding link. The Dark Lord didn't place it upon you to get revenge; it was means of binding you and your assets to him. No one had any idea that it was I who stood to inherit everything."

Draco's face crumpled. "So I am bound to him like a Death Eater?" he moaned. "Lucius, what have you done?"

Hermione gently took his hand in hers and rubbed it. "Can I see it?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

For an agonizing moment, their eyes locked and Draco could see the sincerity of her request.

"Go ahead," he said carelessly, as if it had no meaning.

Hermione hesitantly reached over and gently pulled up his robe sleeve. Draco hissed in pain and his arm jerked, sending a mug crashing towards the floor. Hermione leant over to catch it, but the movement was too awkward and a shard of pottery slashed her index finger.

The mug was fixed with a quick _Reparo_ and Hermione tentatively reached over to expose the mark. It glowed faintly red and as Harry had said, there was a crude likeness of a bloody sword with a snake wrapped around its hilt. The brunette kissed it softly, unconsciously bringing her finger up as well.

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash and a faint sizzling to surprise and anger as Voldemort felt the connection being severed. As the two in the living room cautiously met each other's eyes, Draco saw the bloody red mark slowly ebbing away.

"Blood magic," Hermione breathed. "I had no idea…"

Draco's arms suddenly encircled her waist as he pulled her close with a kiss. His eyes were blazing with unrequited joy at his freedom. The severed bond was more than symbolic – he would no longer have any connection to the Dark Arts and the father whom he despised. For once in his life, the dragon within him would be unbound and allowed to fly free. As Hermione struggled to say something, the young man put a finger to her lips. Some things just cannot be expressed in words.

**The Lair**

Voldemort's snake-like red orbs glowed with distaste but he didn't fly into helpless raging as he felt Draco Malfoy's mark fade slowly into oblivion. No, he was angry, to deny that would be utterly wrong.

What he had done was make a sort of compromise. Rage was only momentarily pacifying and he could only _Crucio_ his followers a certain amount of times before they went mad. Revenge, he had decided, was the most satisfying dish.

"Bellatrix Lestrange!" he whispered into the enveloping darkness of the room. His eyes were narrowed in concentration as he placed two pale white fingers upon his Master Mark.

It was truly a work of art, unlike the crude markings of his followers. It glowed a crimson red, the color of the pure blood that he fought for. A brilliantly detailed snake with slit eyes and shining scales lay coiled upon his left forearm, baring its fangs. A darkened image of Salazaar Slytherin's famous thin-bladed rapier had been placed above the snake, its blade tilted towards the heavens. An ancient basilisk ringed the work of art, its eyes portrayed as bottomless orbs of black.

A sharp crack resounded throughout the room as Bellatrix entered, undoubtedly clutching her arm in pain. Voldemort's lipless mouth curved upwards slightly at the sight of her obvious discomfort. "Come forth Bella," he said imperiously. "I have another assignment for my most loyal follower."

The female Death Eater glowed slightly under the skillful manipulation. "My liege, I am yours to command," she said, intoning the ritual of loyalty.

"And I shall serve as your master from this day forth to the end of times," he replied, completing the formal oath.

"What is it that your desire, master?" she asked, her tone betraying her excitement.

"When you capture the Mudblood Granger," he said, leaning forward so that only Bella could hear his words, "bring the Betrayer along as well."

The ruthless follower licked her lips in anticipation, her thin mouth curving into a smile. "And then what, master?" she asked, her voice thick with longing and excitement.

Voldemort smiled. Bellatrix was too easy to predict and too easy to win over. "You may do whatever you wish," he whispered, the promise a sweet seduction. "But leave the Mudblood for me."

She bowed once more, reverent with pleasure and eagerness. "I shall not fail you, master," she promised feverently.

As she hurried out of the room, Voldemort almost laughed at her idiocy. She was too easily persuaded and several insinuating comments could send her over the edge. No, she was just a normal follower filled with simple credulity. Her lust for another's pain and torture clouded her senses and made her a liability.

"Atrox!" he called, placing his fingers to his elaborate mark once more.

A man of medium height whirled into the room in a swirl of ebony robes. He bowed fluidly to his master, and pulled off his mask to face the Lord and await direction. He had piercing hazel eyes that gave him a shrewd look and a large nose that sat in the middle of his face and a small mouth that seemed to be curled up in a self-satisfied smile.

"My lord," he said with a flat and hard voice. "You summoned?"

Voldemort smiled. "I have a special job for you…"

**Potter Mansion**

Harry awoke from his nap; his scar was throbbing painfully and was glowing a reddish hue. His skin was cold and clammy and he sat up, rubbing his eyes. His breathing was fast a labored as if he had just run a long distance where the goal had been obscured, lost to all lines of vision.

A calendar upon the wall fluttered slightly with crossed out blocks that signified days gone past. October was upon the Wizarding World – October 1st to be exact. Harry sighed as he flipped over on the bed so that he'd be lying on his stomach. Ginny had forgotten to spell the calendar to flip its pages by itself. It still read that they were in the month of September.

He groaned and got up rather groggily, disoriented from sleep and headed over to flip the fluttering page. "You're up already?" came a feminine voice to his left. It was Ginny.

He smiled through his foggy outer layer. "It was just a nap," he said, laughing a little. "I woke up because my scar started throbbing."

Ginny went from playful to serious in no time. "Harry! Are you going to tell Dumbledore?" she asked, her tone concerned.

He chuckled and circled his arms around her waist. "You remind me of Hermione in our school days mothering us to the edge of insanity," he said wistfully. "Do you ever wish that we were still students? We spent most of our years hoping to become seventeen so we could use magic."

The redhead twisted a bit so that she could look up at his face. "I don't regret any moment that I spent at Hogwarts," she said truthfully. "I only regret the moments I didn't get to spend."

He smiled wryly. "Turn my argument against me will you?" he laughed, secretly admiring her bright demeanor.

She snuggled up in his arms as he hoisted her up into his arms easily and settled back onto the couch. For a moment they sat there, wrapped up in their own thoughts and listening to the steady rhythm of their heartbeats as they thudded in unison. Soon their hands found each other and clasped their fingers tightly together, intertwining in complex patterns.

"I'll be back soon," he murmured, breaking the peaceful silence. "I'm going to alert Dumbledore."

Ginny pecked him on his cheek. "That's a good boy," she smiled.

**Hermione's Flat**

Draco's brow was creased and lined with small translucent drops of sweat as he carefully stirred the potion in the cauldron. It was the _Draught of Living Death_ and had yet to progress past its deep purple toned liquid. Checking the potions book, Draco glanced up at the chart of the activation of ingredients.

Biting his tongue, he added a clockwise stir after the allotted seven counter-clockwise stirs. The potion began to gain a light shade of lilac that pooled in the potion, spreading out in tendrils of the light color.

The Slytherin potion brewer smiled and continued to stir, this time adding in a clockwise stir for the seven counter-clockwise ones. Soon the potion was a perfect lilac color that bubbling slightly, but was otherwise perfectly still.

Taking an empty flask, he labeled it _Draught of Living Death_ in elegant writing. The cauldron supplied ten bottles of the devilishly hard to brew potion and he set them carefully in their space on Hermione's shelves.

Brushing off his dusty black work robes, a quick _Scourgify _left the wooden work bench and cauldron sparkling clean. Draco flicked his wand and the lights dimmed as he shut the door to the potions laboratory.

He found Hermione in her kitchen, absent-mindedly prodding a piece of Yorkshire pudding with a silver utensil while engrossed with a small book. Draco smiled at the familiar scene and slipped into the seat next to her.

"What are you reading?" he asked conversationally, relieving her of the pudding and spoon.

She showed him the elaborate sea-green cover bound in leather. "_Nature's Nobility_," she replied before setting it aside. "Harry returned it to my library a few days ago."

Spooning the light crispy edges into his mouth before continuing onto the soggy middle of the sweet, Draco gave her an inquiring look before swallowing. "Why would Harry want to read that?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

Hermione sighed and flipped through the book, searching for a particular page. "Do you know of the _Erpeto Apogonos_ or the _Erpeto Paidia_?" she asked hopefully.

He frowned and shook his head, summoning a hot Butterbeer to wash down the dessert. "No, why?" he asked, slightly annoyed that Hermione was avoiding the topic.

"Figures Lucius would hide this of all things – if he even knew," she mused.

"What?" asked Draco, getting more and more confused by the minute.

"I'll explain it to you exactly how I did to Harry: The _Erpeto Pyrgos_, Castle of the Serpent is the fortress of Salazaar Slytherin, the last known residence of the Hogwarts Founder. According to multiple consultations to myths and tales recorded down through the ages, it was there where Slytherin made his last 'gifts' to the wizarding world. It is said that the fortress is impenetrable, Unplottable, and impossible to access unless you are an _Erpeto Paidia_, Child of the Serpent, and have the willing support of two _Erpeto Apogonos_, Descendants of the Serpent," she explained. "The _Erpeto Pyrgos_ is basically a treasure trove of Salazaar's inventions. Dark artifacts and the legendary power of Slytherin await one strong enough and worthy of unleashing the potential of the _Erpeto Pyrgos_."

"So can I safely assume Voldemort is trying to gain access to it for the Final Battle?" he asked.

Hermione nodded tiredly. "But there's one last hope Draco," she said, her tone now insistent and hopeful. "There is another _Erpeto Paidia_, someone who could rival him in power."

Draco threw up his hands. "_Please_ just tell me!" he cried. "You're speaking in circles!"

Hermione drew a slow breath. "We know that Snape is one of the two _Erpeto Apogonos_ and the other is one Matilda Auctorita Moon – whom we don't know," she explained, her tone hesitant. "Riddle is also one of _two_ _Erpeto Paidia_. You are the other, Draco."

Before he could utter another word, a smoking red envelope was thrown into the room through the window. A snowy white owl could be seen, soaring away from the small window.

The Howler exploded in record time, but the voice that emanated from its ruins was not the angry voice of Molly Weasley that was known for sending Howlers to her children. It was clearly the voice of Harry, agitated and overcome with worry.

"…. Light is out! The Keeper has fallen! The Bastion of Light is unguarded! The Light is out!"

Hermione paled but Draco looked confused. "What?" he demanded. "What's going on?"

The young woman turned to face him, her face drained of color. "It's a code," she said in a whisper, her voice shaky and betraying fear. "Dumbledore is gone – Voldemort has taken him."

_Do you feel the darkness in the sky?_

_The heaviness in the air?_

_Do you sense the darkness pry?_

_As you're transported to evil's lair?_

_Do you see the shine of light?_

_The blinding hope?_

_Just as it flickers out of sight,_

_As if itself cannot cope.._

_Do you taste the salty freedom?_

_That tingles and rejuvenates?_

_As the wind of change does come?_

_But fails to move as it sits and waits?_

_Do you hear the darkness calling?_

_Whispering tempting promises in your ear?_

_Hoping, Waiting, Stalling..._

_Each sweet seduction, a hidden jeer._

_Do you smell the overcoming fear?_

_The scent of overwhelming despair?_

_The sense that the darkness is near..._

_As if there are none who care?_

_Enveloped in darkness,_

_Meandering in fear,_

_Trying to guess..._

_Why upon your face, is a tear._

_What will you do?_

_Where will you run?_

_As the darkness begins to woo?_

_And the light is spent and done?_

**Author's Notes**

_Awww… I ended it at a cliffhanger! I haven't done that in an absolute age! Oh well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Also, don't worry, Katelyn Bellezza will be appearing soon enough once more, several of her students will have their Piccolini hatched, and the Christmastime Lycanthropy Charity Ball preparations will be resumed with doubled energy seeing as Hermione and Draco haven't been working on it much._

_Anyway, I'm lucky to have Yom Kippur off today (Thursday) and tomorrow there's a Teacher Inservice so I'll work on that _Consequential Revenge_ fic then. Please, please, please, read and review that one. You may not like it as much, but that fic is in terrible need of some appreciation and reviews._

_This chapter was a little shorter, but I was really hoping to get it out on time so there you go. The poem was written by me and not copied from someone else and slightly altered. It's a completely original piece. Feel free to devote a separate part of your review to the poem. I was originally going to make it longer and post it as a separate fic but I decided against it._

_More later. Love to all my reviewers,_

_Tiffany Yuan_

_emillie8cow – Aw, I didn't botch it up? Yay! Three cheers to you for smiling and making our world a little brighter. :smiles:_

_Eowyn89 – She has yet to tell him about her multiple lives, but she'll get there. Also, you're right, Chronus is Father Time. Here's your chapter, so enjoy!_

_royalblueKitsune – Thank you! It's always nice when someone falls in love with my fic… and bothers to review. :smiles: _


	16. Chapter 15: Hidden Demons

The brunette's head whirled in dismay and confusion as the force of the message struck her full-force. Dumbledore – her confidante in troubled times and beloved mentor during the years after her Hogwarts graduation. The greatest wizard on earth, one that was mad, but brilliant, captured by the force he had dedicated his life to fight against. The very wizard able to coddle any student as he frightened Dark Lords with a simple wave of his wand; simply swiped brutally away from those close to him. _How could he have been taken_?

Hermione clutched the marble countertop, unfeeling as the chiseled edge of the stone dug into her palm harshly. Her world was whirling in sickening colors as she cradled her head, letting her tears drip uncared for onto the flawless finish of the counter. Memories were viciously pulled from the dark recesses of her mind where she had stored the thoughts most beloved to her.

**Flashback**

_A young woman sat in a plush chintz chair, wringing her hands worriedly. An elderly man sat in front of her, his hands clasped together upon the wooden surface. His countenance betrayed sympathy to the student's plight and a sort of grandfatherly air. He suddenly took a gnarled hand and placed it upon her shaking shoulders._

"_My dear," he said sadly. "There are times when we must choose between what is right, and what is easy. Go forth with the courage you have always carried so proudly, and may Merlin bless your heart."_

_The pretty witch looked up, meeting his calm sky blue eyes, pools of chocolate brown full of hurt and uncertainty. "Headmaster, what can I do?" she cried. "What courage do I possess? Of all the times I've shown that trait is when I am facing the choice of life or death. Even a dog bites back when it is being attacked."_

_Taking her hand and gently prying it away from her other, the venerable wizard enclosed it in a warm grip, lending warmth and calm to her body and waited for her rapid breathing to slow and her shaking to subside. "Hermione, you possess talent that even you refuse to acknowledge," he said, shaking his head. "Trust your heart, I know that this is difficult for you, but you must never let your doubt cast a shadow above your determination."_

"_No," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "How can I leave them for three years? These people are all I have left. I murdered my parents, I never told them about that. If they ever knew, they'd think me to be a monster – which I am. Leaving them in the dark for three more years would make that rift irreparable."_

_Suddenly, the Headmaster's face shifted from a calm and soothing expression to one of bated fury. "Voldemort murdered your parents. No blood soils your hands and no shadow casts darkness over your innocence," he thundered. "Never forget who you truly are and who is really at fault. You are no monster, look at yourself and you shall see the truth. You, Hermione, are a courageous young woman who risked everything to save your parents. Simply because you did not succeed does not mean you killed them. The Weasleys and Mr. Potter all know what you truly are at heart, and never forget that they care for you beyond your wildest dreams as do I."_

"_No," she said softly. "I can't leave them. I would rather live a life of a single lie rather than leave them and deceive them once more. Trust is valuable and the only thing that I do not give out freely. Why should I deserve _their_ trust if I do not even believe in myself?"_

"_Listen well, my dear, for I can only tell you this once. The rest of the path lies at your feet to be uncovered by you. This is the way of an apprentice," he said, the twinkled gone from his blue orbs, replaced by endless sorrow. "Do whatever you can to help young Harry. He needs a weapon, one that you alone can provide him. We don't know if he will be the one to defeat the Dark Lord, but he will need your help several years hence."_

"_Do not forget yourself, be true to your heart, Hermione," he said, his tone softening. "One who has wronged you will return one day, it is written in the stars. Draw strength and courage from love when the light seems to be gone. Don't abandon your path, sidetracked by goading tones or sweet seductive promises."_

"_And I will not fail you," she replied, completing the pact that was more bonding than any magic – one of faith and promise of a better future._

"_Never lose hope," he smiled, taking both of her hands in his. "I will always be here for you, never feel that you have been completely abandoned. Remember – death is just the next great adventure. Should I ever pass to the next plane before this war subsides, never give up the hope of victory. Should I fail to answer your summons, never forget the things I have taught you this first lesson. These principles are more powerful than an Unforgivable and more sustaining than any Draught of Living Death."_

_She regarded the kindly wizard with a confused expression which he returned with a cool, cryptic gaze. "You shall understand in time," he said, releasing her warmed hands. _

**End of Flashback**

"No," she whispered brokenly. "He can't be gone…"

Beside her, Draco stood looking at her with an odd unreadable expression. To any normal wizard or witch, it would appear to them that he was pondering his next action. However, people who knew the young man would immediately noticed the soft pearl-liked sheen over his normally dark gray eyes and his quickened breathing. For a moment, he simply stood there, watching Hermione. He of all people other than her parents knew her the best. The young woman wouldn't take kindly to coddling at the moment.

Silently slipping into the seat next to her, the platinum blonde wizard let his hand closest to her sob-wracked body rest comfortably on her shoulder. It was a simple gesture, but it indicated that he was there for her.

"Never lose hope," she murmured, raising her head to regard him with red tearstained eyes.

He pulled her into his strong embrace, settling his chin upon her slightly rumpled hair. Draco could feel the quivering after-effects of her tears, but no more fell. Hermione was not a woman who wasted time on releasing and making her emotions known.

"Let's go," she said suddenly.

He looked slightly startled and raised an eyebrow. "What?" he asked feeling quite confused.

"We don't know that he's dead," she said, her voice faltering at the last word, but he could hear the underlying determination in her voice. "I need to get cleaned up and we'll go wherever we need to. The Order undoubtedly is going to meet as soon as the Phoenixes get wind of this."

"Lead the way," he said finally, feeling rather weary. "I didn't know him as well as you and… Potter did. But don't think I don't know how much this affects you. I made the mistake of not fully understanding you the first time – that's something I'll never do again."

"I won't hide it then," she said, turning around to face him as they passed the living room. "Harry's probably told you everything he knows, but I never told him that I was Dumbledore's apprentice during the years after Hogwarts. It was he who gave me the courage and bolstered my determination to leave you all for as long as it took to secure the theory of wandless magic."

Draco was quiet as he stored away the small bit of information Hermione had been willing to part with. As they walked in a comfortable silence, he quickly pieced the puzzled of Hermione Granger together. She was a mystery – that much he knew – but there was something new that he had never detected in their short relationship at Hogwarts. She was emotional but covered it up as well as a well-bred Malfoy and went about life with a slow but determined approach, probably something she had picked up from Dumbledore. At least the slightly crazed wizard had given her something after all those years.

He waited patiently outside of her door as Hermione slipped inside to wash her face and reapply the gloss on her lips and the like. He wasn't surprised to see her emerged in less than a minutes, she had never put too much stock in her appearance. However, he suddenly noticed that her mouth was drawn in a thin line.

"What's wrong?" he asked. The sadness on her face was obviously caused by the shocking Howler, but the young woman in front of him barely pursed her lips to indicate her mood.

"It's the poison," she said, her tone slightly forced. "Phantom pains and the like shoot up from wherever those bloody daggers hit me whenever I move too quickly."

He looked slightly worried but she gave him a small smile. "I'll be fine though," she said, her tone reassuring. "We're just going to an Order meeting."

Stilling his concerns, the young man made a note to check with Madam Pomfrey about her assertions. The two soon reached the end of the hall and he watched curiously as Hermione whispered a few words and a few runes arranged in a square formation flashed with a golden light.

The silvery outline of a small trapdoor flickered into view and wavered slightly before solidifying and parting with the wooden floor, standing a bare centimeter above the other planks. A simple iron ring flickered into view in the same fashion with a sharp word that bore no resemblance to the Latin that usually made up English spells.

He took a hold of the smooth metal ring and pulled up and was pleasantly surprised to see that the wooden trapdoor was well-oiled and provided little resistance when he moved it. A set of stairs about two feet across and one foot wide descended down into an inky darkness.

With a mutter _Lumos_ spell, they descended into the dark room below, Draco testing every step dubiously and Hermione moving carefully so that she wouldn't trigger the painful reaction of the poison.

It was a short set of stairs and Draco could barely contain a prayer of thanks as he felt his foot contact solid ground. Raising his wand so that the beam of light would illuminate the room, he gasped slightly with surprise.

He was surrounded by magical artifacts ranging from complex Sneakoscopes to glass instruments perched upon antique tables. He was standing in the center of a large stone-walled room that resembled the architecture of Hogwarts classrooms. Hermione was carefully picking her way between the large instruments and methodically lighting various torches that she had picked up near the doorway and setting them in iron holders that had been firmly hammered into the wall.

"What is this place?" he said out loud, his voice wondering.

"It's the apartment that is below mine," Hermione responded, making her way back towards the enraptured wizard after setting the last torch into its place. "This room is just the objects the WWIA have given me for various missions and as awards for every title they come up with for me. They're all extremely valuable magical devices ranging from Dark Detectors to artifacts that can give you a glimpse into the future or manipulate certain weaker elements like water."

"There's more?" he asked, thinking of the size of the witch's penthouse.

"Just the artifacts from the Ravenclaw family fortune," she shrugged. "The next room is pretty much the same kind of stuff as I have in this room except they're a part of my inheritance. The rest are paintings, swords, tapestries, and the like. I have a separate room for the books and records too."

"So why are we here?" he asked, but the question fell upon deaf ears as Hermione slipped into the next room.

Taking a seat on the bottom step, Draco sighed dramatically and let out a breath of air with unnecessary force that sent his bangs flying upwards. Hermione soon emerged from the shadowed cover of the next room dressed in a form-fitting black shirt not unlike the one she had worn the night of his rescue. Soft black pants fit snugly on her and flared out at the bottom, however not as tight as the ones she normally wore on missions.

She carried a small knapsack, undoubtedly filled with reference books and gadgets from the trove of artifacts she had stored.

"Robes would be too heavy," she said, answering his unasked question. "And the pants are looser but not baggy so I don't have to worry about extra material getting in my way. If I wore the pants from the other night, the pain might be triggered from the pressure that is applied whenever I move."

He shrugged indifferently. "It's fine with me," he said, tossing her a pair of white trainers. "I just want to know what the Order will do seeing as I'm not exactly Potter in their eyes."

She reached out and deftly caught the flying pair of shoes. "Honestly," she laughed slightly as she tied the laces securely. "They don't hate you as much as I would have liked years ago. You'll be fine."

"Alright," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, smoothing the rumpled mess. "But we're leaving as soon as possible. I've still got to sort out some business deals and sever ties to the Malfoy name."

Hermione's hand froze in place at his nonchalant statement. "Sever ties to the Malfoy name?" she repeated dumbly.

"Potter has agreed to help me out," Draco explained. "In several hours time, if all goes well, the disgraced Malfoy line shall be without a male heir and I will be Draco Black."

Hermione glanced at her silver watch and frowned disapprovingly. "We need to go for now," she said wit a note of finality. "But don't think you'll get away later. I have a feeling that you and Harry are friendlier than I originally thought and you've probably made countless things happen while I was asleep."

He shrugged and smirked. "Ladies first," he said grandly.

She smirked back at him. "You don't know where we're going, so you'd best get over here and take a hold of this quill," she retorted, waving a broken quill in the air.

Slightly disgruntled about his abruptly cut down act of chivalry, Draco carefully ducked under a humming pole and picked his way between glowing stones. He took his part of the quill and Hermione signaled the usual countdown to him.

A whirlwind of flashing colors and darkness later, Draco landed smoothly in a semi-spacious room. Most of the Order had already congregated and they had been obviously been awaiting Hermione's arrival.

"Sit in the back of the room," whispered Hermione. "And don't you dare intervene. You're not a Phoenix yet so you're lucky they're letting you sit in."

Sighing, Draco rolled his eyes impatiently and nodded. Hermione caught his hand as he headed toward a corner of the room and she pulled him back. "Swear it," she whispered fiercely, her eyes full of pleading. "I don't want anything more to happen today."

"I swear upon my honor as a wizard and my devotion to you," he vowed, giving her a chaste kiss on her lips.

Hermione flashed him a smile and waved him away towards a plump stuffed chair in the back of the room. She quickly hurried up to the head of the table and took a seat next to Harry. The raven haired wizard seemed wearier than before and Ginny could be seen at his side, clasping his hand with obvious worry in her eyes.

"Let the meeting start," growled Alastor. "We've called together this last-minute meeting to discuss the whereabouts and possible plans to rescue our leader Albus Dumbledore."

Shifting could be heard throughout the room, accompanied by several sniffles and sighs at the mention of the kindly old wizard. "Let's call Hermione Granger to speak first," the ex-Auror said, banging the table for attention.

"What?" she asked, looking startled. "I don't know any more than any of you. I just got the… letter Harry sent and I got here as soon as I could."

"Hermione, don't bother hiding it," sighed Ron, standing up to speak. "We all know what you do after last night's mission."

"I'm not hiding anything," she shot back, her anger straining on her mental leash. "I just don't understand why I have to speak first. I have no information, no location, nothing. I can't do anything more than you!"

The redhead snorted. "Don't try to fool us," he said, his aggravated tone emerging. "We know you've got tricks and access to boundless information. You just don't want to work to sort through it all and find what we need."

The brunette pushed back her chair and flew to her feet with unsuspected force and speed. "Are you implying that I wouldn't do anything and just sit and watch you all try and find the Headmaster?" she asked, her eyes blazing with anger and reflecting a twinge of pain from the sudden movement.

"Yes!" he growled. "Why do you refuse to do anything? We all know that you're the most capable member. _Three years_, Hermione. That's how long we've been working since our graduation. We deserve rest that we'll never get and you've just barely started working as a Phoenix."

"YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ME!" she roared, her anger unleashed as she spat out each word with venom. "AND YET YOU DARE IMPLY THAT I HAVE DONE NOTHING FOR MY COUNTRY, FOR MY PEOPLE, FOR MY VERY MENTOR!"

Ron's ears glowed a bright red but his Weasley pride wouldn't let him back down. "YOU REFUSE TO HELP, TO DO ANYTHING FOR US! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HELP THE ORDER? THE WAY YOU HANDLE THINGS – YOU'RE BECOMING A LIABILITY INSTEAD OF AN ASSET!" he shouted back at her, matching her tone. "WE DON'T NEED YOUR_ WORDS_ WE NEED ACTIONS!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed and her tone suddenly became sharper but deadly quiet. "You have no idea of what you speak of, Weasley," she hissed as a jolt of pain shot up through her body. "I have sacrificed more for the Wizarding World then you have imagined. I have seen more and done more against evil than you could ever hope to see."

The redhead's face flushed a bright red. "I've fought in battles, skirmishes, and planned out countless missions," he said harshly. "You've done nothing of that sort. _One_ rescue mission, Granger, that's all that was last night."

"Battles? Skirmishes? Planning a few missions now are you? How many have you even killed?" she asked, her tone mocking now as her mind and vision became clouded with anger. "How many sleepless nights have you spent, hunched over at a desk at work? How many mornings have you begun at three in the morning? How many of your dreams are plagued by visions of those who you fought to save so fiercely, but failed anyway? How many times each day do wonder if how your have the right to take another's life?"

"I've spent three years worth of nights working late into the night and catching only a few hours of sleep. Every single one of my dreams is created from guilt and the horrors I have witnessed," she said, her tone growing flatter as she cut off Ron's words. "I have killed six hundred and thirty four Death Eaters and failed to save sixteen children and twenty three adults. I know the names of every person who has died by my hand, and those who I failed. When you can truly see who I am and what I have done, and then you can mock me for not doing _anything_."

Without waiting to hear Ron's response to her tirade, Hermione roughly tossed the knapsack that had been slung across her shoulder and let it land in the middle of the table, spilling out the priceless contents. "Here's _nothing_ that could possibly compare to what you've done, Weasley," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. "And remember, only out of respect for your family do I refuse to strike you down for your naïve approach to such serious things."

Slamming the door behind her, Hermione could feel the prickling sensation in her eyes as she blinked and let tears fall down her face. Ron had unknowingly struck the very heart of her fears – the fear that she wasn't doing enough to help in the war. His words had awakened the dormant beast within her mind that Dumbledore had so painstakingly leashed years ago – the one that brought her doubt in her abilities and decisions. Her vision was blurred by her tears and she sank down, sliding down to the hard stone floor, her back pressed against the cold wall.

Hermione heard soft footsteps approach her which she quickly identified as Draco's. She peered up at his towering frame and followed his concerned gaze as he crouched down next to her. He was looking at her with a reproachful expression and his mouth formed a thin line, giving him an awkward look.

The two sat in deafening silence, none daring to speak up first. Finally, Draco cleared his throat, shattering the stillness. "You shouldn't have made me swear upon it," he said wistfully, trying to make the situation lighter. "I've been longing to have a go at Weasley ever since our fourth year."

She gave him a watery smile. "I'm fine," she lied. "Go back in; I'll be behind you within a few minutes."

He glanced at her, his eyes a stormy gray. "No," he said finally. "I'll stay with you. But I have to ask, why didn't you tell him exactly what you do?"

Hermione gave a bitter laugh. "Ron doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut at the right times. I only told Harry about my other identity so only you, my boss, and Harry know that Katelyn Bellezza and Hermione Granger are one and the same," she said sadly. "If I had told him specifically that I had fought in all the battles, he'd know immediately that I was Katelyn – she's famous for fighting Death Eaters – and my cover would be blown."

"Why?" he asked, his tone betraying his frustration. "Why don't you just tell him the whole truth? Then he would understand."

"No he wouldn't," she said flatly. "Even if he would understand, he's less accepting than Harry. He'd be furious about me keeping things from him."

Draco sighed, letting his breath whoosh out with weariness. "Come on," he said after a moment. "I'll take you home."

"Do you even know where we are?" she asked dryly, a hint of humor showing from under layers of sadness.

He shook his head, laughing to keep the atmosphere light. "I can't do anything fancy and track Portkeys," he admitted.

"We're at the Potter Mansion," she replied, closing her eyes. "I'm tired; can you stay with me tonight? Narcissa can cope with the Malfoy Mansion to herself, can't she?"

Gently lifting her into his arms, Draco concentrated on the bright image of her homey kitchen, remembering the sweet aroma of fresh coffee and focusing on the homey atmosphere that his own home sorely lacked.

"Of course," he said, feeling the warmth of her body snuggle against his broad frame. "Of course we'll go home."

**Author's Notes**

_I know I haven't updated for longer than usual, but it's getting hard to find time, if you know what I mean. I hope you guys liked this chapter. Don't worry about Draco being slightly out of character, he's only like this around Hermione. In the next chapter, you'll see a glimpse of the good old Malfoy that Rowling created. For those of you who like Ron and dislike my portrayal of him in this fic, I'm terribly sorry. It's just that Ronald Weasley has always seemed rather insensitive and not too understanding. He's probably the most likely character of the Golden Trio to arouse old fears and demons through a slip of his tongue._

_I'm also happy to say that my grandparents are leaving on October 27th, so it'll be slightly easier to squeeze in some time to write. It takes me about three hours + to write a chapter, and I can only use the computer every other day, and I don't always have time to type._

_As the school year wears on, my updates will grow farther and farther apart. My teachers are pretty report/project-happy so I need to do copious amounts of research and type up dozens of things. _

_Lastly, I have enabled Anonymous Reviews, so try not to abuse that. If it's abused, then I'll block them again. That's just how things work. Also, I've updated _Consequential Revenge_ so check it out. I've decided to distribute my time between these two stories, so that'll also widen the gap between _Reborn from the Ruins of Lost Love_ updates. Sorry!_

_Thanks to all of my reviewers, old and new!_

_Emillicow8 – Heh, I haven't done cliffhangers often, so I decided I would drop that one on you. Draco/Hermione interaction galore in this chapter, I hope you enjoy it!_

_RoyalblueKitsune – Well, I hope you're enjoying this genre. My favorite type of Fanfiction is HP. :winks: Thanks!_

_Eowyn89 – Mwhahahaha! I made Harry tell Draco everything while Hermione was sleeping. Making her explain everything over and over again is quite annoying. However, she'll give our Drakie-poo a more in-depth look at her double lives later on in the story. Oooh.. I can't answer these questions… :gasp: But you'll find out later on.. Thanks. :smiles:_

_autumnxrain – Poor Kathleen. I hope you're getting enough sleep now, I love sleeping._

_InfectiouslyDepressing – Oh, that's so nice! And yes, I am rather evil, aren't I? … :evil laugh:_


	17. Chapter 16: A Malfoy Always Wins

A young woman lay sprawled upon a patch of lush green grass, her eyes closed and her expression dreamy. Dark black tresses tumbled down upon her shoulders and rested lightly upon the brilliant green blades of grass that swayed in the soft breeze. Both of her pale arms were arranged in front of her, her delicate hands propping up her chin so that her face would be tilted up towards the heavens. She was garbed in a simple white gown, unadorned but beautiful in a natural way. The material was soft, but unlike anything the wizarding – or muggle – world had to offer, shimmering in the soft light.

All around her, random bursts of soft light showered the area beneath it with delicate white sparkling dust that vanished as soon as it touched the emerald carpet of grass. The air was unusually playful, as if it had a mind of its own, teasing jet-black ringlets of hair around. The towering trees above the maiden whispered quietly in the wind, swaying slightly with the moving current instead of standing against the other element.

The scenery had changed once more to show the enchanted forest in the distance and a lush meadow that sloped gently. A golden sun shone upon the field, bathing it in a supple light that warmed the skin and rejuvenated tired souls. A mystical mist enshrouded this all, lending a sort of magical air to the whole scene rather than obscure the details.

A cleverly hidden door, concealed by the weathered wood of an old oak tree, suddenly creaked open and a small mousy-haired seventh year girl walked in, her glassy blue eyes shining in wonder at the sight. The mist parted slightly, and the Ravenclaw girl saw Professor Bellezza lying in the grass, humming an old tune as she tickled a small bunny's stomach.

"Professor?" she called softly, afraid to disturb her unconventional teacher.

Katelyn Bellezza looked up to see the timid student, clutching her knapsack tightly and beckoned her over with a smile. "Ah, Katie," she said in warm dulcet tones. "Set your books on the stump next to the great oak and come sit by me."

As the youth quickly complied, the Professor got up, the edge of her cloak swishing slightly. Taking the tip of her wand, she traced a large circle around the oak that hid the entrance, and the shape glowed a silvery hue for a brief moment before slowly fading from view. The wide-eyed girl stared wordlessly as the process was finished, and her clothes shimmered slightly before morphing into a white gown like her Professor's.

"Five points to Ravenclaw if you know what I just did," she said, winking.

"B-b-but y-y-you haven't s-s-started c-c-c-class yet…" stammered the shy girl.

"Nor do I need to if I find that you have some knowledge to impart that is deserving of some sort of award," Katelyn replied, winking conspiratorially. "Professor Snap does not wait for his class to be in session to deduct points, no?"

The Ravenclaw glowed slightly from the compliment, and her small frame straightened up a bit. "You cast a form of the _Comcandidus_ charm," she replied, her voice confident now that she was in her element. "And expanded its affects so that anyone who has, or will, pass through the portal will be clothed similarly as you and I are."

"Ten points to Ravenclaw," she said brightly, clapping slightly to indicate her approval. "A very complete assessment you've just given."

Her small heart-shaped face crinkled in surprise at the extra reward. "Why did you add five points?" she asked, her tone surprised.

"I said that I would award your House five points if you _knew_ the answer," Professor Bellezza remarked casually with a smile. "But you went ahead and answered the question, therefore you receive an extra five points for sharing the knowledge you already possessed, _mia cara_."

Katie flushed with embarrassment and smiled shyly at the benign Professor. "Thank you, Professor," she replied. "But I came early to show you something…"

Professor Bellezza's expression lit up immediately. "Oh my, has your – oh I mustn't get my hopes up…"

The brunette jogged over to the tree and could be heard muttering an advanced summoning charm and whispering gently to something as she beckoned it forward, making her way over to the Professor. Behind her was a striking chestnut brown horse about the size of an average dog. At its sides was a pair of magnificent wings, tufted with pure white feathers.

"Dear Merlin," she breathed. "You hatched an Aethonon?"

Katie smiled radiantly as she looked proudly at the magnificent creature. "She hatched early Monday morning after I'd spent a weekend with my grandparents at their horse farm," she explained breathlessly. "I kept my _Piccolini_ egg with me wherever I went and I suppose that was my secret. She wouldn't stop growing for about twelve when she first hatched, and now she's about my height and still very docile."

"An egg cannot resize itself to accommodate the creature within it without giving its identity away, so it is the creature that resizes itself after it has been… created," she explained, offering the regal horse a carrot. "The true 'secret' of hatching your _Piccolini_ is to let your egg, for the lack of a better word – witness, the object of your soul's affections. The creature in fact, does not choose you; you actually create the most compatible companion for yourself since it changes to accommodate your true interests and desires."

Before the conversation could progress any further, the door of the old oak tree swung open and the Defense against Dark Arts class poured in, each student guiding or carrying their own magical creature. Several students were touting odd contraptions ranging from a cage that enclosed a burning fire and a Salamander to a bowl of water containing an elegant silver Ramora.

"Class," said the Professor, clapping her hands loudly for attention. "Sit in a circle around me and come to attention, please."

As they carried out her instructions, the Italian woman sat down on the soft ground and whistled lightly for Aurea, her Snidget, to come. The golden bird flew down from a nearby tree and perched on her outstretched finger, singing a melodious tune.

"Now, can anyone other than Katie tell me whether they managed to hatch their _Piccolini_ before twelve o' clock midnight last night?" she asked.

Celsus, a Hufflepuff girl, and Fier, the disbelieving Ravenclaw boy raised their hands and Professor Bellezza shook her head sadly. "Only three of you all together?" she asked. "Ah well, then I shall have to ask those of you who managed the project to tell me what the 'secret' to hatching your _Piccolini_ was."

Celsus was the first to speak up, displaying his three-headed Runespoor to the class as he stood up to speak. "The thing that triggered my _Piccolini_ to hatch was when I found a muggle painting of Salazaar Slytherin and touched my egg to its surface," he declared, his voice smug. "Obviously, it has something to do with my pureblooded upbringing or my pride of the Slytherin House."

A Hufflepuff girl surprised the class by choosing to speak second. "My Crup hatched last night when I was caring for it and I chose to help a first year with his Levitation Charm instead of starting my Transfiguration essay," she said, her voice small but clear.

Fier decided to go after, not wanting to be the last to explain what had trigger his _Piccolini's_ birth. "My _Piccolini_ turned out to be Gytrash whose creation was triggered by… erm… avisittotheForbiddenForest," he said quickly.

Katelyn's cathedral bell-like laugh resonated throughout the area at the poor Ravenclaw's admittance to breaking the rules. His House was well known for its occupants' rational thinking and good decisions, so admitting to a trip to the Forbidden Forest was a shame as opposed to a jaunt to brag about in other Houses. "I'll not take points off of your House, Fier," she said, her tone serious, but her eyes twinkling with mirth. "But promise me that you'll not go there again."

The young man nodded quickly and sat down in his spot. Katie quickly recounted her own experience and proudly showed off her Aethonon that had been waiting patiently at her side. After her speedy explanation was done, the Ravenclaw girl took her seat.

"Professor Bellezza," Katie said quite suddenly. "How did you manage to hatch your _Piccolini_?"

The witch nearly smirked at the question, but managed to keep her composure. "I caught the Golden Snitch during a practice game that I had brought my _Piccolini_ egg to. I suppose that my _Piccolini_ was rather eager to hatch, as it somehow drew me towards it until I had set the Snitch on top of it," she explained, ignoring the murmurs.

"Now, who can hypothesize what the general rule is for hatching _Piccolini_ before two weeks is up?" she asked, clasping her hands together patiently. "For there _is_ some standard rule to this process, no?"

Several Ravenclaws' hands shot up as their analytical minds had already started to chip away at the layers of the puzzle. Katelyn smiled inwardly at the familiar scene and chose a random student out of the ones that had not volunteered to answer. "Erm, I suppose they've all got something to do with their House traits," tried the Gryffindor boy that she had randomly selected.

"Partially correct," she relented. "However, can anyone else elaborate on Mr. Rudis' point?"

This time the Italian Professor chose a Slytherin girl sitting towards the back. "It might have something to do with their interests," she supplied. "After all, House traits are reflected in a student's interests."

"Anything else to add?" she asked. "Are there any other theories? You don't have to elaborate on the current one at hand."

No one volunteered to voice their thoughts and Katelyn stood up with a small sigh. "When Mr. Rudis started us off on the track of House traits, he was leading us down the approximately correct path, however crude it may have seemed," she lectured. "Contrary to popular belief, the creature does not pick you, and you do not pick the creature – at least consciously you don't."

"_Piccolini_ are curious things, being able to sense what you desire or love most deep within your soul. This is why even a weak bond with such a creature you have essentially created is so sought after. If you manage to discover what your _Piccolini_ has discovered, and use it to hatch the egg, you form a strong, unwavering bond to your creature," she continued. "Your desires, strengths, weaknesses, and loves all can be reflected in your _Piccolini's_ form. What magic surrounds these eggs are unknown to any wizard. Many Unspeakables suspect that Merlin himself devised these eggs as a plan to remind wizarding folk of their true identity."

"But, Professor, why would this have anything to do with Defense against Dark Arts?" asked one student, unable to contain himself any longer.

"Ah, the creature that hatches from your egg is bonded to you both mentally and physically. This connection is enhanced and matures as time passes, and ends up linking you to a magical creature completely," she answered. "Thus, a wizard or witch with the guidance and powers of a magical creature can defend themselves better than a lone wizard or witch. With your intelligence and knowledge of rudimentary spells and your creature's instincts and raw magical abilities, you could go from an ordinary spell caster to one of twice your skill and expertise at most."

"Professor Bellezza, is there a general name for our _Piccolini_? After all, some of them can no longer be considered 'Little Ones'," asked another, a Hufflepuff girl.

"They are known to most as _Piccolini_, even after hatching," she replied. "But if you have the power and determination to enhance your connection well enough and the magical creature becomes sufficiently linked to you, they would be considered your Familiar."

"Now, if no one has any more questions, I would like to ask you a question of my own." she continued, seeing that her students' curiosity had been satiated for a while. "Where are we?"

Whispers erupted and spread like wildfire. No one had an idea of where they were. Katelyn smiled. "We are in Avalon," she said simply.

A confused Gryffindor raised his hand uncertainly. "What's Avalon?" he asked, sounding out the unfamiliar word like a first year would.

"Throughout Muggle legends, Avalon is known as the Isle of Avalon, home to the fairest of spirits and the resting place of battle weary warriors. The tired souls are offered place to stay and recover at and given the choice to continue on their journey or stay. Its name was derived from the English word, lava, meaning apples, thus called the 'Island of Apples.' It was also said to be the place where the legendary sword, Excalibur, was forged." she responded. "Avalon, however, is most well known as the resting place of King Arthur, the Muggle king that associated with the likes of Merlin himself. Some even say that he was carried to Avalon so that his mortal wounds sustained from a fight with Mordred, could be treated. Many also believe that King Arthur still lives here, waiting to return to the mortal realm."

"For the most part, the Muggles were right since the stories were heard from wizards and witches back in times when secrecy wasn't needed or enforced. The only grievous error they made was that King Arthur does not reside in Avalon any longer," she continued. "It was not fated for the famous king to return to the mortal plane, and Morgan was ordered to ease his passing into the next world instead of save his life with her powers."

"Are we actually _in_ Avalon?" asked a dubious Slytherin. "My parents often take me there to visit the spirits of several family members that decided to stay there, but I've never heard about being able to make a _classroom_ into an alternate dimension."

The black-haired Professor pondered the question before smiling rather nostalgically. "In this castle, there are limitless possibilities, some of which have been explored, others which have not," she said cryptically. "In at least one room, where Hogwarts is known to exist on another plane, so the true question here is _how_ I managed to accomplish this."

"How, then, Professor?" he asked, his face flushing in annoyance.

She merely smiled at him and flicked a slender finger towards the approximate direction of the library. "That is a question you could take up with the ancient tomes in the library, Mr. Drole," she said, fighting to hide a childish snicker. "I suggest you acquaint yourself with the resources Hogwarts has given you."

Turning to the rest of the class, she addressed the students once more. "Now, can anyone tell me why I chose to bring you to Avalon?" she asked, her voice ringing clearly through the meadow.

When no one raised their hand to answer, she continued on. "Avalon, among many other things, is a magical isle of many mythical spirits and environs. It is also, the ancestral home of all magical creatures," she said, her voice startling many students that had given in to the hypnotic effect of the Avalonian mist. "With that particular piece of information, can anyone answer my previous question?"

Several hands went up as students had begun to uncover the connection between her statements, and Professor Bellezza chose the Ravenclaw girl that had hatched an Aethonon. "Our magical creatures would be most comfortable here, Professor," she answered, her voice only slightly dreamy from the subduing effect of her surroundings. "They would take comfort in the familiar surroundings as if it had been their first and only home since all magical creatures can sense the distinct aura that Avalon is composed of."

The class went by quickly as the students were called upon to discuss certain points of their theories of how to hatch a _Piccolini_. When the bell rang, signifying the end of the seventh years' Defense against Dark Arts class, Professor Bellezza stood by the concealed entrance and bid farewell to her students. Like before, the shy Katie from Ravenclaw was the last to leave.

"Thank you, Professor," she said, hugging her textbooks to her body tightly.

"It was a pleasure to hear such well-thought theories today," she replied with a warm smile. "But I don't remember your full name, I'm afraid."

"It's an odd one," she admitted, her tone rather nonchalant. "Most of my teachers don't give it a second thought. My name is Katie Moon."

**Berlin, Germany**

Draco growled impatiently, twitching his robes for what seemed like the millionth time in the few minutes that had elapsed. His face was emotionless, and his eyes were a cold, hard gray that glinted with anticipation but also tempered by calculation. It was time to exact revenge upon the ones he had nearly been bound to through a foolish old man's hasty signature.

The young man's lips curled up into a shockingly malicious sneer. The old man was no longer around to be berated, so the party at the other end of the blood contract would be the ones to pay. He swept a lock of platinum blonde hair behind his ear, letting it settle among its uniform others. His eyes glinted slightly at the thought of what he was about to do. Revenge would certainly be sweet.

Before his mind could trail off on the tantalizing path of imagination, a small dusty man hurried into the cramped waiting room consisting of several rickety chairs and a scarred wooden table piled with outdated magazines of obscure origins. His gray robes indicated that he was merely a messenger for whoever ran the run-down contracting office.

Draco frowned as he stood, mentally glad that he was out of the uncomfortable seat, and nodded imperiously at the messenger that had been sent in to summon him. He could not have been older than twenty five, but his face was etched with permanent lines of worry, and his back was slightly stooped as if he had spent his past lifetime in servitude as well. The sharp young man's keen eyesight immediately picked up the faint blurred outline of a circle of chains on the messenger's neck.

His internal frown creased deeper at the sight of the wizarding brand of slavery. The chains symbolized their unbreakable blood bonds of slavery and the circle shape that the irons had been arranged in chilled his blood. It was the sign of an ancient pact made by some foolish ancestor of the man before him, promising the line he sired to slavery in return for some favor. A circle of never ending slavery, condemning every child to servitude until the last labored breath was forced from their mouths.

"He is here, my lord," the gray-robed man wheezed, his voice crackling like a sheet of parchment. "He awaits your presence."

Storing away his mental worries, Draco gave the messenger a curt nod which sent him practically sprinting down the narrow corridor. The young man turned around to face the heavy wooden door and his eyes narrowed slightly. Pushing the door open, he stepped into a spacious office, furnished completely unlike the poor decorations of the building he had just traversed through.

"Ah, young Lord Malfoy," smiled a balding old man. His expression seemed as if it had been plastered there against his will. Crooked yellow teeth stuck out from under his thin lips, and pasty cheeks seemed to bulge and quiver with his every move.

The man, obviously in charge of the establishment, sat behind a flawlessly finished desk of cherry oak, his wide girth supported by a sleek black leather chair. His hands rested upon a pile of parchment, thick, chubby fingers heavily jeweled with thick gold bands and various priceless stones. Folds of fat could easily be discerned under his sleek silk robes, parts of the rich material clinging to his graying skin as beads of perspiration worked their way through to form unsightly clumps of wet material.

"Herr Drohung," he replied smoothly, his own mouth curving into a cheerless smile. "I have come to settle several financial matters that my father had initiated a few months back."

The enormous man's jowls quivered as he struggled to sit upright, finally slumping back into his leather throne when the feat had been accomplished. "Ah, taking on the family business, eh?" he asked, winking conspiratorially. "Good lad, good lad."

If it were possible, Draco's smile would have dropped several more degrees until the air around him began to freeze. "No, Herr, I'm afraid that I must terminate _our_ contract for my own personal gain," he stated clearly, pushing several sheets of parchment across the table.

"No, no, no," he hissed, leaning forward so that his stomach began to droop onto his desk. "You silly boy, you can't break a blood contract."

"I'm afraid that I must," he repeated firmly, his eyes flashing dangerously. It should have warned the Baron Drohung.

"But you cannot," he insisted, pushing back the papers without sparing them a glance. "Lucius was a fool, but you will do very well in my collection."

"I am afraid that you are far more foolish than he," Draco retorted, his voice barely betraying the tiniest drop of sarcasm and humor. "If you would spare the contract a glance, then you would see what I say is true."

Herr Drohung's forehead, possibly the only smooth space upon his body, creased with a frown as he picked up the contract that Draco had provided him minutes ago. For a moment, he scanned the parchment, finding nothing to be wrong until he reached the last page. The young man followed Drohung's gaze as he reached the bottom of the page and began to splutter incoherently.

"_This… is… not… possible!_" he roared, sending the papers flying.

The German wizard tottered unsteadily to his feet, his normally pasty features beginning to glow a bright red. A patch of sweat appeared on his forehead, as more beaded above his upper lip. He pointed a quivering jeweled finger at the calm blonde wizard, shouting curses in German.

"_Ich werde Sie zu Hölle verdammen!_" he bellowed. "_Wie kann dies möglich sein? Wenn ich dieses nahe ebenso bin?_"

The young man simply stared, before getting up to leave. "A Malfoy always wins," he hissed vehemently. "But I am no longer a Malfoy, Herr Drohung. I am a Black, and a Black always _destroys_."

"_Ich werde meine Rache, Sie junger Narr haben!_" he shouted at Draco's retreating back. "_Markieren Sie meine Wörter, werden Sie nicht leben, das Neujahr zu sehen."_

Pausing momentarily with his hand firmly grasping the doorknob, the blonde wizard whipped around to face the raging man. "Brave words for such a weak man," he spat. "But mark _my_ words, Herr Drohung; our next meeting shall not end so well."

**Hermione's Flat**

Hermione sat at her desk, a quill rapidly sketching out a detailed floor plan of the Malfoy Manor at her right, as she poured over several dusty tomes and took copious notes on the left. Thin, wispy writing covered the ancient tome, small and hard to decipher, but the witch knew that good research never yielded its bounty without effort.

Wiping a smudge of black ink off of her nose, the brunette whipped her wand out and set another one of her Quick Quill Notes to copy down a list of scratched out music troupe options as she took a sip of gillywater.

She could hear the faint pop of Draco's quiet Apparition and smiled slightly. "Did everything go well with Drohung?" she asked cheerfully, swiveling around to see the familiar face of her boyfriend crossing the room.

His face was contorted by some odd sort of smile, as if he had been torn between the option of smirking or laughing in delight. "As well as it could ever be," he replied, taking a seat next to her.

"Here's a list of musical entertainment options," she informed him, handing him the parchment that had just been finished. "And I also have another idea for the gala."

"And what might that be?" he asked, raising a golden eyebrow.

"We'll host the twelve days of Christmas," she announced, her voice oddly pleased with itself. "It would only cost a several thousand more Galleons – money I have nothing better to do with – to provide for the extended hire of the entertainment and the extra luxuries such as Italian wine that we'll have to import."

"I supposed it might work," he relented after a moment of thought. "There are hundreds of unused rooms in the Manor, and there are more than enough houselves around to be assigned to each guest to attend to their needs. There's never been such a large scale celebration – innovation attracts the wealthy."

"I'm glad you didn't argue," she smiled, pecking him on the cheek. "With twelve celebrations to plan, I can use all of this as an outlet. Leading two separate lives is as confusing as it gets."

Draco shuffled his papers and grabbed a quill, absently marking off options that he had explored earlier and found utterly incompetent. "You've never really told me much about your job," he said, chewing at the end of his quill in concentration. "Would you mind if I asked you now?"

Hermione sighed and pushed her papers to the side. "Are you sure you want to know?" she asked tentatively, suddenly seeming drawn and tired. "Do you want to know what exactly makes my life so complete and utterly hell?"

The young man snorted. "I hardly can make a connection between the two, but I'd like to know anyway."

"I am Katelyn Bellezza, an Italian pureblood and renowned fighter against the Dark Forces. She is the typical Italian beauty – long black hair and pale skin. She's also the Defense against Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts," Hermione explained, shutting her eyes as if lost in thought. "I split my time here, at the WWIA, and at Hogwarts, trying to make enough appearances so as to not appear suspicious. However, Katelyn Bellezza is also actually a person."

Draco whipped his head around so quickly that he had to rub his neck from the backlash. "What?"

"Katelyn Bellezza was killed in the Battle of Wales," she continued, ignoring his outburst. "I found her, dying of a crushed chest and her body was shutting down – I tried to help her, but there was nothing I could do for her. She begged me to cleanse her spirit and to ensure its passage to the next world. She and I are one and the same. Her spirit is stored in my mind, lying in wait for the day I commit an act of such self-sacrifice that she will be able to fly free."

"Merlin," he breathed. "And you accepted the task?"

"I had no choice, Draco," she sighed, putting her palm to her forehead. "What choice did I have? She was dying so slowly and painfully. It was the only thing I could give her, to promise that her spirit could rest in peace for all eternity."

He quickly wrapped his arms around her shivering form, feeling her relax as she allowed her curves to melt against his body. "That's why I fell in love with you," he said wryly. "You never cease to amaze me."

Hermione stiffened at the last comment, her mind whirling around rather guiltily. "Draco?"

"Hm?"

"I have to tell you something else," she said, hesitating.

"And what might that be?" he asked, surprised by her sudden withdrawal.

"I've found the Moons."

**Author's Notes**

_I know that you all love me and wanting to come over to my house and hug me aren't you? Alright, alright, I'll stop with the obvious denial and admit that I felt the evil urge to stop right where you all would fall over the edge of your chair at the sight of my bold, obnoxious letters proclaiming the beginning of my Author's Notes. If you were at the edge of your seat that is…_

_Anyway, the German translator I used was some free online software, so if you speak German, please don't murder me over its terribleness. I take Latin, there's nothing I can do about all of the foreign languages I'm incorporating in my story. Look at the very bottom of the page if you want translations. Even though you can probably get the jist of it by reading between the lines…_

_I've covered most of the topics I mentioned in my last Author's Notes, but I sort of ran out of time and room (I hit 10 pages worth of story exactly on the dot) to go on. I'm sorry, but it _is_ rather cold in my study, and I have a t-shirt on, ready to go to bed. See how devoted I am to all of you? I'm _supposed_ to be playing viola or piano right now, but I'm sneaking on to finish this up so people (At least in my Time Zone) can read it tomorrow morning or whatnot._

_Alright, I wrote _a lot_ in response to your reviews… Since I love you guys so much. :sniff:_

_royalblueKitsune – I feel the need to thank anyone who compliments me. :wink: It's a habit of mine; I'm terrible at accepting compliments. What else can you say when someone gives you a raving review (Other than update as soon as possible. :smiles:)? Also, my chapters aren't terribly long – they're probably about average with only 10 Microsoft word pages. Heh, weeks? I wonder if they'll type faster to make up for lost time when they actually get the computer (Months and years later…)_

_gAITITABella – 2 hours? Wow, I'm surprised that you managed to do that in one sitting! Thanks for your devotion. :smiles: I didn't plan as much in the beginning, so I apologize if a few chapters threw you off a bit. I should edit it, but I don't get a whole ton of new readers, and most people don't remember all of the details. As for the passion, I was tired of people drawing Hermione as a analytical girl of no emotions. She is passionate about what she does, and I only dream of doing justice to the character Rowling so vividly portrays. Ron, he's an interesting character, loyal but so stubborn and insensitive. I love seeing what I can do with him. Thanks for adding me, it's always nice to see a new user pop up here and there._

_autumnxrain – I can't go on AIM since my family filter blocks out insecure programs and my popup blocker kills everything else. I can't download things either, since my mom has the administrator account (I use Windows XP) and its password protected. I have MSN though, but I don't really know it as well as AIM. Write letters, and I give you pretty pink beaded necklaces. Sounds like a deal to me… Great chapter? I just loved having the chance of bashing Ron, he's so insensitive that I want to throttle him sometimes. Draco? Smush? Why?_

_Eowyn89 – I'm evil like that, aren't I? I keep saying that… :stares: I'm updating as soon as possible – I like hearing your comments as much as you like reading my chapters… Even though I don't know if I'm allowed to make a comparison that I know nothing about. Bleh. And actually, just for the record, I _did_ start writing as soon as I finished most of your review. Draco? Fortress? That's for the next chapter, but they've still got to locate the riddle, solve it, and recruit the Apogonos. Don't forget about all of that. This would be a horrible story if everything happened so fast._

_erjje541r – Will do. :salutes: I'm also glad that you took the time to review, and read my story. :smiles:_

**Translations**

Ich werde Sie zu Hölle verdammen!

_I will condemn you to hell!_

Wie kann dies möglich sein?

_How can this be possible?_

Wenn ich dieses nahe ebenso bin?

_When I am this close as well?_

Ich werde meine Rache, Sie junger Narr haben!

_I will have my revenge, you young fool!_

Markieren Sie meine Wörter, werden Sie nicht leben, das Neujahr zu sehen.

_Mark my words, you shall not live to see the new year_.


	18. Chapter 17: Masked Vengeance

"The Moons?" he repeated, shocked so much that he could barely register her words. "_The_ Moons?"

Hermione gave him a wry smile, stretching out in her wooden chair with a yawn. "Yes, they're _the_ Moons," she said dryly, starting to catalogue some stray parchment. "One of my Defense students is a Ravenclaw named Katie Moon. I was surprised that she wasn't in Slytherin – but then again some students have an odd connection to the Sorting Hat."

Draco raised a light blonde eyebrow quizzically, his put-out expression demanding to know what inside joke she was referencing to. "Harry convinced the Sorting Hat not to Sort him into Slytherin after meeting the tiny obnoxious version of you on the Hogwarts Express," she explained absently, biting her lip as she scribbled down various titles on her paper.

The Slytherin Prince looked rather disgruntled at the nonchalant explanation. "I couldn't help it after being raised like a pampered dog for eleven years," he muttered defensively.

His girlfriend set down her eagle quill and turned her head so that she would be facing him fully. "And it's not that Snape's blatant House favoritism – which _somehow_ escaped chastising - did much to remedy that situation," she remarked sardonically.

Realizing that they were approaching a dead end where he would be cornered and accused of not accepting his own actions – fully – Draco dove away from the topic with a soured attitude. "But beside the point, what else can you tell me about the Moons? Where do their allegiances lie?" he asked, probing her for more information.

"I'm getting there," she retorted, casting a rather annoyed look in his direction. "The Moons are a long line of purebloods, but not as prominent in the British Isles. Their lineage can be traced back several centuries to the approximate area of France. About their allegiances – that's a tricky topic. The Moons don't stake claim on either the Light or Dark side, but instead they alternate according to which side seems to have the upper hand."

"Clever," he remarked, tapping his fingers on the edge of Hermione's desk in thought. "Staking your claim on a certain side would mean a rise and fall at any given moment. Switching alliances may make you seem rather disloyal, but you're turned to when things are down because of your neutral status."

"Precisely," she nodded with an approving smile upon her features. "Right now the Moons are neutral - on the Gray side if you will – and we have to convince them that Light will be victorious this time around."

The wizard gave a sharp bark of laughter. "That's going to be much more difficult than you put it," he smirked. "With Dumbledore captured, the part of figurehead of the Light side has been chopped off. How are you going to convince the Moons that we're going to win even though the Dark has captured the most powerful wizard ever to be known, who incidentally used to be on our side?"

The brunette witch bit her lip, her eyes suddenly filled with worry. "I don't know," she said after a moment of silence. "She's the only other _Apogonos_, Draco, we need her…"

Suddenly Draco circled his arms around her waist and gently pulled him into his lap. "It'll work out," he said in a reassuring tone, but sounding not quite convinced himself. "Doesn't it always?"

The young woman twisted slightly in his warm hold and regarding his pearl gray eyes with honey-brown ones swimming with doubt and concern. "What if it doesn't work out?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "What if I can't do a single thing to help?"

His eyes hardened at the statement that rekindled memories of Ron's verbal assault. "You can do your best, Hermione," he said firmly, gripping her upper arm and turning her around further. "And I'm sure that your best will be more than enough to help your mentor."

She shook her head, closing her eyes that were brimming with unshed tears. "He's been gone for two days, Draco," she said brokenly. "What will we do when those two days stretch out for months or even years? What will we do when my best simply isn't enough?"

"We'll simply stick to our path," he said resolutely, his face hardening with determination. "No matter what, we won't let anything stop us – even death – to ridding the world of that _bastard's_ presence."

Laying her head against his chest, Hermione looked up at her beloved's face, a small smile gracing her trembling lips. "_We_ will, won't we?" she asked.

He smirked. "Whatever possessed a smart Gryffindor like you to think that I wasn't going to be there for you?" he asked.

Hermione promptly threw her quill at him.

**Potter Mansion**

"Over here, Harry!" called Ginny, leaning precariously as she reached for a book, perched on a ladder ten feet in the air.

The dark-haired wizard hurried down the rows and rows of books within his ancestral library at the sound of his girlfriend's voice. They had been searching for ward dissipation spells, with not much luck so far. At first he had been tempted to call for Hermione, with her superior researching and organization skills, but the thought of her always brought him the devastating memory of Ron's outburst at the Order meeting the day before.

Harry sighed as he jogged towards the center of the library where Ginny had been cataloguing books, weighed down by several dusty tomes he had found around the spacious library. A partially finished map was clutched in his free hand, depicting the room in three dimensions and listing the locations of certain books.

"What is it?" he called up to the red-haired form above him as he set down the books he'd been carrying.

Ginny descended the wooden ladder with a triumphant smile and a rather small dusty paper backed book in her hand. "I think this is it," she grinned, brushing a lock of hair that had escaped from her messy bun behind her ear.

The raven-haired wizard took the small book, regarding it with a dubious expression. "Are you sure this is it, Gin?" he asked rather disbelievingly.

She bit her lip, but plastered a determined expression on her pixie-like features. "I'm not _sure_," she retorted. "But I'm _suspecting_ that's what we've been looking for."

He turned the brown jacketed book around and absently dusted off the front, exposing thin gold letters embossed upon it. The small cramped handwriting proclaimed the book to be entitled _Thine Mysteries of Warding_. The author's name was oddly absent from its usual spot under the title.

Harry frowned, gently opening the book to reveal pages yellow with age and as thin and fragile as a flower petal. The title page also lacked credit to the author and his frown deepened. "Why would someone not want credit for writing a book?" he asked aloud.

The red-haired witch peered over his shoulder for a better look. "We'll find out, won't we?" she commented dryly.

He snorted. "Naturally, but only after we go through the books Remus set aside yesterday," he replied, absently skimming through the mysteriously small book.

The young woman pouted, flinging herself onto a chair, crossing her arms as she looked at his towering form. "No, we're going to read _that_ book, and if that's what we need, then we'll inform the rest of the Order," she said resolutely.

Harry gave her a rather curious look before silently complying and taking a seat next to her. She reached for the book, but a firm hand stopped hers. "First, I need to know how you found such a small book in the middle of so many larger ones when you weren't looking for anything in particular," he said with the same odd expression.

Behind his curious mask, Harry's mind wasn't quite whirling, but it was rather disorganized. His senses had tingled as soon as Ginny had handed him the interesting book, and the lack of an author made his brain itch with suspicion.

She sighed dramatically and freed her hand from his trap. "It called to me, alright?" she muttered. "Call me crazy, but I could feel its pull."

The young man gave her an alarmed look. "Are you sure it's not Dark? The Potters were firmly seated on the Light side, but you never know…"

The redhead cut off his words with a small smile and a finger to his lips. However, her calm expression was quite unlike the anger that had been brought on by his doubt in her abilities and precautions that wizards and witches took to avoid Dark objects. "I think, that after being possessed by the Dark Lord himself, that I would recognize Dark Magic upon sight," she said rather frostily. "If you doubt that I could, take a look for yourself."

Harry sighed and tipped the chair backwards while running his nervous fingers through his untamed hair. "It's just that…" he began in a frustrated tone. "He could be anywhere, Gin. I love you and respect you and your talents – don't get me wrong when I question some things. We need to be careful when there's a war raging on both sides."

The young woman visibly wilted at the obvious pain and weariness that emanated from his voice. "I'm sorry for snapping," she said quietly, subdued by the heavy atmosphere. "It's so… maddening to have been possessed by _him_ before and still have people think that you're a novice when it comes to detecting the Dark Arts."

The raven-haired wizard set his chair back on its proper four legs and picked up the book. "Let's take a look now, shall we?" he asked in a light tone.

He could feel her gently get up and slip into his lap, and he smiled at the small bit of warmth that seemed to glow within his heart at her touch. "I'll take that as a yes," he said with the tiniest hint of a smile.

Taking up the book so that it would be level with their eyesight, Harry absently stroked the worn cover and gasped slightly as a sharp pain shot through his thumb and the area beneath his digit began to glow a soft golden hue.

For a moment, he was too shocked to do anything, and the glow quickly receded. Acutely aware of Ginny's open mouth and wide eyes, Harry slowly pulled his thumb away from the spot that it had occupied and blink rapidly at the sight.

The brown paper covering had been replaced by writing that was identical to the one that had penned the title. The spindly narrow letters proclaimed_ Lord_ _Lemnir of Lacmote_ to be the author.

"By Morgana," breathed the witch. "What brought that on?"

Harry shook his head in wonder. "I have no idea, we'll have to remember to ask Hermione after things cool down a bit," he mused, stroking the golden words with no small amount of wonder.

Opening the book, the wizard gently turned to the first page with the least possible force, afraid that the pages would tear in his rough grasp. It was crowded with black lettering, all narrow and slightly embellished like the script upon the cover. Obvious written by hand, it was slightly too small to read comfortably, and it was also written in a foreign language - Latin.

The young man groaned as the realization that he would not be able to read the book until he had pounded Latin grammar rules, endings, irregular forms, and vocabulary into his head, they would be unable to continue their research along the current vein.

"Harry?" interrupted Ginny's voice, cutting through his moment of annoyance and dread.

"Hm?" he asked while only half paying attention to her call.

"Don't you find it odd that the title is written in English and yet the contents have been scripted out in Latin?" she asked, flipping around in the book to check if all of it had been written in Latin.

His startling emerald green eyes flickered up towards Ginny's heart-shaped face. "I never realized that," he said thoughtfully. "Perhaps there's some sort of magic that's hiding the words…"

"Let's ask Hermione."

Harry's face creased with worry at the blunt suggestion before shaking his head in resignation. "The rift Ron has created between her and the rest of the Wizarding World is too wide to cross safely," he said softly, taking his glasses off to rub eyes that were slightly bloodshot from lack of proper sleep.

The redhead gave her boyfriend a crooked smile, cocking her head to one side as if examining a specimen. "And since when have you shied away from danger?" she asked, her tone colored by a hint of annoyance.

"This is different, Gin," he sighed. "Everything that has any link to Hermione is volatile – she's our wildcard."

Now the witch's pale complexion colored with the blooming redness of anger. "So that's what she is now?" she demanded, rising from her seated position on top of him. "A weapon? A card that you strategically draw?"

"No, no, not like that," he said distractedly. "What I mean is – oh, Merlin, how do I say this? What do you know about her? When you look at her, do you see the person she pushed us to believe that she was at Hogwarts?"

"What do I know about her?" she asked, her tone rising in indignation. "She was the best friend I had when no one else was there for me. Hermione is still the same girl – woman – that we know and love, hidden under the layers of mystery she's wrapped herself in. Tell me you can see through that, Harry, for of all people, I'd expect you to understand her best."

"Understand?" he said, laughing in utter disbelief. "Tell _me_ why I of all people would understand her."

The young woman paced for a few moments, her face filled with unending disappointment, before replying. "She was the cause of her parents' deaths," she said finally without looking up to meet his eyes, her tone soft and sad. "She may have never told you, but I was also one of her confidantes during the three rough years she endured after leaving Hogwarts. Albus and I were her last link to the life she had forsaken for _our_ sake, Harry. For once, try to imagine what it would be like to leave me, Ron, and your very _life_ for three years."

The raven-haired wizard tried to interrupt, but she wasn't finished yet. "Terrors you may have faced during Hogwarts, but she was always along your side, ready to help, as was Ron. You may have been neglected as a child in the Dursley residence, but she was shunned by her friends when she tried to find happiness in a relationship with Draco. In so many ways, you and Hermione are alike and equal," she continued. "However, it is not my story to tell. One day, you may learn of exactly what she went through after Hogwarts. Perhaps you might not."

Throughout her passionate speech, Harry had remained silent and thoughtful, committing her words and subtle hints to memory. It had been years since he had ever really reflected on the possibilities of what Hermione had been up to those faithful years. Now the very center of his balance in life was cutting down those makeshift crutches and demanding that he reshape them to be firmer and truer than before.

He looked up to see the young woman regarding him with a sad expression, a tinge of pleading flickering within her eyes. He smiled. "I'll make a call."

**Hermione**

Hermione's carefully arranged brown curls emerged from the fireplace, studded rather attractively with specks of glittering green Floo powder. An unreadable expression sat upon her face, swallowing up the happiness that usually danced within her creamy brown eyes.

She stood up and checked her reflection in the full-length mirror at the corner of her room. A black shrug had been neatly tied over a white muggle camisole, the ends that had not been tied dangling, inviting any winds to play with its ends. A pair of classic flared denim jeans gave her a casual look, softening the more elegant top.

Draco stuck his head in through a crack in the doorway. "Going out?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in question. "I thought we had made plans to dine at _Le Papillon_ tonight."

She stuck her tongue out in a playful manner. "I'll be back before six, I promise," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischievousness.

He sniffed dramatically at her childish manner. "As long as you promise to follow through with that," he relented majestically.

She hit the blonde wizard lightly on his arm, an expression of mock-hurt plastered across her features. "Don't I always?" she asked, her mouth opening in shock.

He looked at her scandalously. "I'm not going to even answer that," he retorted.

Giving the young man a scandalized look herself, Hermione tossed a handful of glittering Floo powder into her personal fireplace, watching the bright orange flames flicker green. "Potter Mansion!" she shouted, plunging headfirst into the blazing chaos.

She felt slightly light-headed as hundreds of wizarding homes flickered by, barely visible through the sheet of magical green fire that engulfed her body as it sent her hurtling through the Floo network at an astounding pace.

The young woman soon was thrown out of the whirling network and automatically used the extra force to come out in a roll, rising into a crouching position with her wand at ready so quickly that the green flames had not yet died out.

The only thing visible over the tops of the rich burgundy stuffed chairs Harry had commissioned was a tousled top of fiery red hair. She squinted slightly, letting her _Anakalpsi_ senses take over. A silvery form appeared through the now colorless chairs, shifting slightly with the person's steady breathing. She wouldn't be able to read his power without actual physical contact, but she could sense his mood and intentions to a certain extent.

Colors started to appear upon the shimmering outline, as if an invisible brush were stroking on each shade and hue of thought and feelings. A tingle ran up her spine as she saw the dark redness of suppressed anger and blueness of resolve as well as a bit of gray doubt.

"Ron?" she called out, sheathing her wand.

The silvery form moved quickly, and her _Anakalpsi_ sight burst into flashes of color before fading away. Before her now stood a towering Ronald Weasley, anger and disgust plainly written across his features. Her eyes shifted warily and she noted that his fists were clenched so tightly that the areas around his fingers were white.

"What's wrong?" she asked tentatively, wondering to herself why his thought had been shielded.

His mouth was fixed in a grim line, and his eyes were cold. "You," he hissed in a low undertone. "You are what is wrong."

The small hairs on the nape of her neck stood up at the sound of such venom in the usually bumbling but sweet tones of her childhood friend. She unconsciously backed up a step, trying to put more space between them.

"Let's sit down," she suggested. "We can discuss this as much as you want."

For a moment, Ron's mask of fury fled to be replaced by an expression of surprise. "_Good,"_ she thought. "_He's losing determination. We don't need to fight any more…_"

"Alright," he snarled, regaining his previous composure. "But this had better be good."

She carefully took a seat, perching on the edge of the plump armchair, every fiber of her being tense and alert. She had left Ron too long to know whether his infamous temper had gotten worse or subsided as he matured. Underestimating her adversary could be the last thing she ever did. Hermione shivered slightly at the thought.

"What do you want from me?" she asked simply.

The redhead's expression suddenly turned mocking. "What do I want from you?" he asked, his tone pitched higher to be somewhat synonymous with hers. "What do I want from you? I want your help, and I do believe that I'll get it with or without your consent."

Her temper flared instantly at the implication of her unwillingness to join in the mission to search for the Headmaster. "Are you assuming that I am too occupied with my own life to spare a moment's time to assist in locating Dumbledore?" she asked acidly.

The lips that were usually graced by a small lopsided smile contorted into a sneer. "I am not assuming, Ms. Granger, what I stated beforehand was, and is still, a fact," he spat, his hand involuntarily reaching for his wand.

Her expression hardened at the blatant insult, and her fingers became acutely sensitive, able to feel the tempting humming power of the magic in the air that seemed to press in on her, begging to me used.

"Perhaps we need to clear up a few… things between us, Mr. Weasley," she said, her voice flat and controlled. "I am not refusing to help Headmaster, and I have never, and will never, make such a vow. What I was implying the other day at the Order meeting was that there is no way that _I_ could have thought of on the spot to rescue him. I am not a deity, Ronald, I am human like you, and I only have so many things I can do to assist you."

"So you left the Order meeting because you couldn't think of a way to solve everything instantly?" he demanded, his fists curled tightly. "Must everything in your own imaginary world be centered upon faultlessness?"

Her eyes blazed with an inner fire at the mention of a dream world. "My life is farther than a dream world than you could ever imagine," she spat. "I left because you didn't want me there. I was respecting _your_ wishes, not my own caprices."

"As is my life," he retorted. "I am not the fool of a child you cruelly rejected years ago, Ms. Granger. Bear in mind you hardened my heart – _you_. I loved you and you gave me nothing but a spare glance whenever that _ferret_ wasn't around."

The revelation struck her like a bucket of cold water. Ron wasn't angry about her storming out during the Order meeting; he was simply taking advantage of that happening to strike out about something much deeper, something buried under years of absence and imaginings.

"You cannot love something you have never known, Mr. Weasley," she replied, her tone cold and frigid. "You do not know who I am, what I am capable of doing, and most of all, what I truly believe in. The love you so openly throw into our argument is infatuation. Teenage lust, Ronald, that is what _love_ you speak of."

"I _loved_ you," he cried, leaping to his feet. "I know of more love than an ice queen like yourself. I handed myself to you on a silver platter, but you're cruel like that aren't you? You prefer a gold platter, a gold digger like you. Never content with what you have, seducing the rich, and taking their Galleons?"

As soon as those hapless insults slipped out of his mouth, Ron's complexion paled. Hermione stood nose to nose with him, an invisible wind blowing her hair about wildly as the loose ends of her clothing whipped about with a tremendous breeze. Her normally warm chocolate brown eyes were filled with bottomless disgust and coldness.

Her hands were surrounded by a silver aura, crackling and humming with magical energy. However, the most frightening of all was the grim line of her mouth and her hardened expression.

Hermione Granger stood in front of the man that had been brazenly insulting her moments ago, unforgiving and angry.

**Author's Notes**

_Hermione isn't a fool, but she isn't as hot-tempered as Harry normally is. However, you wouldn't just sit there and take all of those insults from a clumsy young man such as Ron like it was good medicine would you? She's a passionate young woman, filled with energy and life. But like all people, she's got those inner demons, and perhaps – just perhaps – she'll succumb to their tempting cries and plunge into an all-out-war with Ron._

_I'm quite disappointed in the number of reviews I got for the last chapter, but I thank the reviewers who bothered to write a word or two on their own precious time. As I said before, the amount of views per chapter keep going down as I write – that's not supposed to happen. Who knows, maybe I'll abandon this plotline and go with _Consequential Revenge

_I'm not trying to make it sound like a threat, but maybe I was wrong about putting _Reborn from the Ruins of Lost Love_ above _Consequential Revenge_ on my priorities list. The latter is certainly getting more feedback. I guess time will tell…_

_Thanks again to those who did review, I'm really glad that you think my fic is worth your smile. :hugs:_

_royalblueKitsune – Did you like my portrayal? I was afraid I had made him too harsh… And yes, revenge is definitely Slytherin, as is pride that fuels it._

_Eowyn89 – Hmm… Maybe they will, maybe they won't. I wouldn't go making assumptions about what is to come. :wink: Too short? This one was a little longer. :smiles: Enjoy! And thanks, I'm not normal when it comes to my writing, I hope. Heh._

_rat-gal2000 – Thanks. Creative? I try. :laughs:_


	19. Chapter 18: Secrets within Secrets

Anger blossomed thick and fast, coursing through the brunette's veins with immeasurable strength. She could feel the flaming hotness roll at the very bottom of her stomach, eating away at her nerves and testing its limits to the very borderline. Her vision had narrowed down to one figure that down stood rather nervously, regarding her slightly scarred palm with faltering resolve.

It had been a natural move to her, extending her arm like that. Every inch of her body could feel the increasing intensity of the humming magic, weighing down her every move as her magical senses became more alert than ever during her moment of pure rage. The webs of magic that had accumulated after years of habitation in the Potter Mansion thrummed calmingly against her peachy skin, sending the tempting promise of power to overwhelm her usually analytical mind.

_Choose this._

Time seemed to freeze in place as she stood, feeling the power build in her hand, forming a pure white ball of magical energy that glowed and vibrated with power. Her normal eyes were blind to the world, and her magical Sight was keener than ever and alert. The magical force that gathered in her invitingly open palm shone to an almost blinding degree, illuminating the room as if the sun itself were present within the scarlet and gold walled room.

_Feel the power flow._

Hermione was about to choose several devastating words to form an ancient spell when a quiver of magic appeared in her magical Sight. The words froze upon her tongue, unspoken, and the magic in her palm remained untouched. The foreign magic grew in size, beginning to form an undulating wave-like figure.

"_The wards,"_ she thought immediately.

Lowering the thick mental barriers to hid her most cherished memories, thoughts, and the very source of her magical power, the young woman felt the magic recede quickly behind the lowered walls. Keeping enough power to maintain the Sight, she slammed up the carefully erected shields with astounding precision and made a decision that relied completely upon her instincts.

"Get down Ron!" she ordered, flinging her small but lithe frame towards the red-headed wizard.

The young man had grown a lot since their school days, finally filling out what was once a gangly frame only suitable for teenagers. Well-defined muscles of a professional Quidditch player sat comfortably upon his upper body, making Hermione wince at the thought of what her impact with his standing form would be like. She would never know however, as Ron would never consent to giving her the information, whether the authorative tone in her voice or his initial shock at the change in atmosphere forced him to comply with her wishes.

He dove to the floor immediately, covering his head and ears while waiting for the impact of the ward. Hermione silently reprimanded herself for not checking the room for wards and erected a strong wandless shield that would let the ward slide over and off of his body. He would feel a slightly crushing pressure against his body, but he would be fine.

The young woman situated herself against the wall before casting the same charm upon herself, slightly disturbed by the whole situation. She had never failed to make a routine check of her surroundings before. In her line of work, a simple mistake like that could mean the end of her life. Was a childhood friend truly what was bothering her so much?

She shut her eyes tightly, forcing her lungs to cooperate and issue normal breaths of air as she felt the magic of the shield constrict around her ribs. Soon enough, it slid by her, allowing her lungs to function normally. Hermione let the magic that held the charms in place flow free, and was graced by the sound of a rather loud bang.

She winced slightly as Harry rushed in wand in hand with Ginny tailing him with her wand drawn as well. "Wha..? Hermione!" he said in a rush, his glasses knocked slightly askew. "What's going on? What set off the wards?"

He jumped, training his wand on the rather dusty figure that emerged from behind the couch. Hermione smirked a little at the annoyed expression upon his crinkled features, obviously caused by the copious amounts of dust on his person. Ron had failed to find refuge far enough from the origin of the ward-activated security spell and had experienced a stronger wave than Hermione had.

"Ron!" he explained. "Blimey! What happened mate?"

The red-headed figure cast a dismal _Scourgify_ charm with equally pathetic results. "Blasted woman activated your wards," he muttered, trying to brush the fine white dust off of his thick red hair, only succeeding in spreading it to his roots. "She Flooed in a few minutes ago and we had a… talk. She blew up, set off the security wards, and here I am."

He shot a particularly nasty glare at her, as if she were to blame for his lack of knowledge on the patterns of a ward's additional security spells. Hermione felt the angry red monster of hate rear its head at his unjust insinuated accusation. She glared back at him with glittering brown eyes.

Ginny had begun to set the furniture back in their rightful places and tidying up the sitting room with several well place household charms. Despite her angry mood, the brunette witch couldn't help but inwardly smile at the familiar spells that she had taught the younger witch during their long free hours during the week.

"I saved your neck, Weasley, and don't you forget that," she hissed, turning towards the fireplace, the ends of her black shrug whipping around her with the sudden movement. "You'd do best to pray to whatever deity you worship and hope that our next encounter will be this peaceful."

Without another word, the moody witch picked something up off of the floor and Apparated with an angry crack. Harry winced slightly at the sound of a ward ripping as his friend tore through the remaining wards around the east side of his estate.

However, he recovered quickly and rounded upon the tall red-headed wizard that still stood quivering with anger. "Tell me what happened!" he demanded, his emerald green eyes flashing with annoyance.

As the two wizards exchanged criticism and narrations, everyone in the household felt a slight nudge in their minds as if a small inconsequential thing had dropped out of their minds. In the vast library that Harry and Ginny had vacated moments ago, the small brown paper covered book sat forgotten on the wooden table.

At the same moment that everyone had experienced the subtle memory lapse, the curious book that had been the target of scrutiny not too long ago shimmered slightly with sparkling blue magic. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the book shimmered out of sight, leaving no evidence of its existence.

**Hermione's Flat**

The young woman Apparated into her flat with a furious crack as if she felt the need to express her anger upon the eardrums of any poor soul within hearing distance of the tell-tale sign of Apparition.

Hands still quivering in rage, she unconsciously smoothed out the wrinkles in the soft denim material of her flared muggle jeans and adjusted her white camisole so that it was sitting properly upon her shoulders. Taking a rather shaky breath, Hermione tried to calm her temper down to a manageable level.

Soon enough, she emerged from her cluttered living room with a furrowed brow, the only testament to her inner anger and resentment that still boiled dangerously close to the top, threatening to spill over at any given moment.

As soon as she entered her study, Hermione could feel Draco's eyes follow her every move as she paced in the center of the ornamental rug. Finally, she walked briskly over to her desk, her eyes glimmering in anticipation.

"Met up with Weasel again, didn't you?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

The young woman turned around with an angry expression back on her elfin features. "Yes," she snapped. "And I'd rather not talk about that git right now, alright?"

His eyebrows arched in surprise at her soured attitude before he went back to the laptop Hermione had finally finished enchanting for him. "Fine by me," he said amiably. "I've found some sculptors that might do well with the decorations, by the way. I copied a few sheets of parchment full of other possibilities for decorators, suppliers, and entertainment."

"I'm going to my room," she said shortly, rummaging through her organized desk drawer. "I'll be out in – oh I don't know – a few hours at most."

He didn't bother to turn around, knowing her volatile temper and being wise enough not to enquire any further. "Just don't forget our date tonight," he reminded her gently. "_Le Papillon_ tonight, seven o'clock."

Hermione finally found what she had been searching for – a small gold-capped glass vial. At a glance, it seemed of no great importance with its unadorned appearance and seemingly empty contents. However, at closer inspection, one could glimpse a silvery swirling mist, the intangible form of thought trapped within the vial.

"I won't," she promised absently, leaving the room with the memory clasped tightly in her hand.

Hermione arrived in her room with unnecessary speed and launched herself onto the soft silken comforter that was draped almost artfully across her mattress, pillows arrayed in splashed hues of soft lavender.

A small Pensieve soon joined her on the bed, its contents swirling in a slow never-ending whirlpool of memories. It was truly a work of art, decorated with intricate designs of flowers and curling tendrils of vines hand-painted with gold leaf. Beautiful fairies had been painted below the golden border, dressed in delicate gowns of various hues of autumn gold and leafy greens.

The young woman carefully pried the top off of the glass vial and let the memory slip into the deep bowl. Taking a deep breath, she trained her wand on the silvery strand before lowering her face into the Pensieve to witness the memory that Harry had been charged to give her three years ago.

_She was surrounded by nearly impenetrable darkness that was only alleviated by a soft glow that originated from a silver horse that stood unmoving as if it were guarding the shimmering doorway behind it. The heaviness of the air seemed unbearable until she tentatively lowered the walls that fortified her mind and the pressure became a second skin that clung to her every curve comfortably._

_The air hummed with an intensity that nearly sent Hermione into the deep folds of darkness as she staggered rather drunkenly as she ventured to take a step. It was obvious that she was in the presence of magical power that was far beyond her grasp. She was in the presence of a deity._

_A beautiful woman with flawless porcelain skin emerged from the doorway, murmuring to the horse to let her pass, with the grace of an angel that mixed freely with her commanding air and regal composition. A slight glow surrounded her slim frame, a pure white light that could pass as the soft rays of moonlight, only adding to her beauty._

_Silver robes that hung upon her body sparkled in the unwavering light that the torch clasped in her right hand gave off, moving with her every motion only to settle back into their originally perfect position. Minute figures of a silver crescent moon dangled from her ears and reflected the soft light that surrounded her person in slanted beams._

_She smiled warmly at the sight of the young woman that stood in front of her, brown eyes wide with respect and awe. Unexpectedly, she dipped her head slightly to reveal a small tiara adorned with a half moon shaped gem nestled in her silky golden hair. "My daughter," she murmured in a sweet voice, too perfect to arise from a mortal's throat._

"_Who are you?" the brunette witch asked, her voice trembling slightly with awe._

_The goddess shifted slightly and the tops of a pair of elegant wings could be seen peeking over her halo of gold. "I am Selene, the goddess of the moon," she said, a smile still softening her fear-inspiring features. "I am the teacher of wizards and witches, sorcerers and sorceresses."_

"_Hermione Granger," she said nervously, fingering the pendant that shone in the moonlight that bathed her surroundings._

_A laugh escaped the deity's mouth, like a note of honey and silver. "I am aware of your name, my dear, as well as many other things about you that even you do not know of," she murmured, partly to herself._

_Suddenly Hermione became acutely aware that she was conversing with a deity within a memory. She tried to kneel and bow, but found her arm firmly restrained by a pale hand. "You bow to no one," she declared, her silver eyes flashing with subdued anger. _

"_I am sorry, great Goddess," she said, barely restraining a gasp of surprise. "I just… I don't…"_

_Her gaze softened and the goddess gently removed her hand. "You wonder how I am speaking to you, someone who has barely begun to exist, from within a memory thousands of years old, correct?" she asked._

"_Yes," she gulped._

"_This is no typical memory, my dear Hermione," she explained. "Rowena was quite clever with this sort of magic – you are now a visitor of a separate plane of existence where many things that seem impossible are mundane happenings."_

"_You are not Rowena?" she interrupted without a thought. "You called me 'daughter'…"_

_The goddess let loose another laugh, although considerably louder than the one before but just as calm as the rest of her composure. "Rowena, Salazaar, Helga, and Godric were all my students even before they dreamed up of the prestigious institute to school wizards and witches that you know to be Hogwarts," she said patiently._

"_Then what are you doing here?" she mused, fingering the ends of her black shrug nervously._

_The beautiful goddess smiled mysteriously. "To take you to Rowena," she said simply._

_Before Hermione had a chance to react, the silver horse that had been standing guard near the doorway started towards them, its shining hooves rising up and down with unnatural grace. "This is my steed Moonbeam," explained Selene. "He is the only mode of transportation for a mortal like you on this plane."_

_The young woman raised a tentatively hand and felt the smooth silver and white coat with surprise when her fingers felt the substantial softness of the fur and the warmth likened to a living animal. Without thinking, she placed a steady hand upon his back and vaulted on top of his back. "Take me to Rowena and to the heart of all of these mysteries," she whispered fiercely in the intelligent animal's flickering ear._

_Without a warning, Moonbeam reared up upon her hind legs and took off at an astonishing speed that only allowed the witch to catch blurred glimpses of fantastical swirls of color and indistinct patterns. Hermione clung to the horse's white mane fiercely, feeling each jolt being softened by the leather saddle circled with various runes and diamonds._

_Finally they slowed to a trot, surrounded by light twilight air. Hermione could make out the cloud-obscured line of a magnificent castle and the outline of a figure that was hurrying down the road. As the person came into view, she could see elbow length chestnut brown tresses that flew behind in the slight breeze._

_Obviously a noblewoman, the approaching figure was garbed in a traditional medieval gown of dark blue with strips of golden material lining the sleeves, the bottom of the gown, and various other artistically placed areas about the bodice and around the shoulders._

"_Oh, my dear, you've come at last!" she shrieked, a sound that was pleasant but seemed out of place in her finery. "I was beginning to bother Godric about choosing an incompetent heir – here she beamed as she examined her own heiress – but here you are!"_

"_Lady Rowena Ravenclaw," she said formally, not quite sure how to address her famous ancestor._

_She laughed with glee, humor plainly evident upon her womanly features. "Oh dear, only Salazaar insists upon formal titles. Please, call me Rowena or Professor Ravenclaw if you must," she said warmly, leading them down a small dirt path. "Welcome to Il Castello di Incantesimi! Godric, Helga, and Salazaar are waiting inside."_

_Hermione's mind was still numb with shock. Meeting the goddess of the moon had already been an experience to die for, but now she was about to meet all four of the Founders on top of that! "Thank you," she murmured, but was ignored by the witch performing some complex magic to access the castle._

"_Ah, here we go," she said at last. "Leave Moonbeam here, I daresay he will enjoy the solitude as Selene brought him up as a foal to enjoy peace and quiet. Merlin knows that peace is the last thing on one's mind when Godric and Salazaar are in the same castle, let alone the same room."_

_Still speechless, the young woman was pulled into the grand castle and immediately whisked into a side room. Then Rowena abruptly left her side to take a chair near the hearth. Hermione stood still, taking in the warm atmosphere and nearly giggled with the sense of familiarity that permeated the air when she saw the scene in front of her._

_They were all in comfortable room, obviously Godric's, which was simple and slightly messy. A huge fireplace dominated the wall behind her and a fire roared within it, crackling and leaping in a frenzy of red and gold flame. Towards the far left of the room was a four-poster bed with a golden canopy hanging over it and sheets of deep crimson decorated with a gold embroidered lion. The floor was surprisingly made of smooth polished planks of mahogany wood and covered by several cream colored throw rugs._

_A dresser and desk stood against the far wall with a wardrobe leaning against the right wall, all trimmed with burnished gold filigree and covered with various haphazard heaps of clothing and parchment. A griffin had chosen to bed in the middle of the room, sleeping upon a rug that bore the Gryffindor crest._

_Hermione chewed on her cheek as soon as she had set eyes upon the three figures that had been assembled in front of the fire. Godric, a handsome man in his thirties with a head of untamed chocolate brown hair, sat in the chair nearest to her, a rather determined expression creasing his handsome features. He was dressed in a crimson doublet lined with gold and cream, a sword hanging loosely from his leather belt._

_Helga sat next to him, her brown tresses piled up loosely atop her head, several locks of hair framing a set of worried blue eyes and a round, heart shaped face creased with despair. A bit on the plump side, the witch was robed in soft golden material with her family emblem emblazoned upon the left breast. A string of pearls was tied around her neck and a small matching bracelet adorned her right wrist._

_Salazaar sat to the right of her, his thick black hair and bread quivering with suppressed annoyance. He wore a deep forest green doublet line with dull golden strips at his waist and collar with a small rapier in hand. Thick green gloves covered his hands, arrayed with several scorch marks and scratches that had obviously been the result of an experimental potion gone wrong._

_Rowena sat slightly behind the three, surveying the scene with a smile. Hermione could see why she was so amused – both men sat with their backs to one another, twin disgruntled expressions upon their faces, with Helga in the middle torn between comforting them or trying to make them cooperate._

_The three nearest to the fireplace had not yet noticed the witch's presence, and Hermione would have left it thus until Rowena grew tired of their childish antics. "Oh stop it you two," she groaned. "Go spar and let out the anger later on, but I'll need your attention for Hermione's finally here. Selene kept her a little longer than I had expected."_

_Everyone in the room immediately snapped to attention, fixing their gazes on Hermione almost simultaneously. The young woman shivered slightly to see Salazaar regarding her with a hard, cold calculating look as if he were sizing up his next victim. Godric had a thoughtful look upon his features, absently thumbing his chin as he gazed at her without fully seeing. Helga was the only one of the three to do what she had guessed – she gave her one quick look and immediately let motherliness and warmth bloom across her countenance._

"_I'm Hermione Granger," she said unnecessarily, feeling rather uncomfortable._

"_Oh, dear," sighed Helga. "See how she stands and the expression on her face? You two men are making her uncomfortable. Come, child, sit next to me."_

_Taking the proffered seat, the suspicious nature that she had honed over the years kept the twenty-one year old brunette at the edge of the invitingly plump chair. The Founder of Hufflepuff fussed incessantly until she relaxed and sat further back in the chair. Hermione could clearly hear the ticking of the handmade clock on the wall chiming away the seconds as they passed without a word being uttered._

_Godric was the first to explode. "I told you she'd be here!" he shouted jovially, abandoning his pensive pose rather suddenly. "You owe me five Galleons, Rowena!"_

_The slim brunette Founder looked sourly at the handsome man. "Of course," she said dryly. "And now you don't owe me five Galleons for that book you 'accidentally' used to defend yourself with when that boggart came out of my closet."_

_He frowned. "Really?" he mused. "I could've sworn that it was my bo-"_

_Suddenly the Slytherin Founder jumped to his feet. "Stop this nonsense!" he snarled, pointing a gloved finger towards Hermione. "The girl – why is she here?"_

_Rowena raised an auburn eyebrow. "Odd, I would've thought I had just told you three a few days ago," she retorted. "Funny how things other than your potion-making escape your mind."_

"_Now isn't the time, Ravenclaw," he snapped. "You have me here on a debt that should have never been available to you. Now that I am here, I want you to get this over with – quickly."_

"_The gifts," reminded Helga gently. "She's here for our blessings."_

_He spat with disdain. "I owe no allegiance to a _woman_," he snarled viciously. "It is thrice damning for her not to be pure of heritage and one of Ravenclaw's."_

_Surprisingly, Rowena seemed unruffled by the insidious comment and stinging words. "A debt is a debt, Salazaar," she said firmly. "And I am telling you now that this is what shall become of the life debt you owe me."_

_She saw him racking his mind for any way out, but gave up when the order proved to be an airtight one. "I do this against my will," he proclaimed loftily before falling into a simmering silence._

"_She's a good one," added Godric who had resumed his odd gaze. "Well accustomed to the blade and capable to defend herself magically and physically. It has been many a century since I have seen one so talented. She's of my House as well, yes; she will have me blessing."_

"_She's caring too," said Helga at length, her eyes narrowing in concentration. "But she bears a burden that is foreign – one that is not hers to bear. It is one that stems from love and obligation. I have nothing against her, Rowena; I shall give her my blessing."_

"_Wait," cut in Hermione. "Blessing? What am I here for? I need a way to defeat the Dark Lord, not several words of good fortune."_

_Rowena looked at her for a moment and Hermione met her gaze with a challenging one filled with her sense of duty and passion to keep her friends alive. She willed her ancestor who had claim to so much knowledge to see what she needed and asked for her assistance. The Founder broke off the contact almost immediately and quietly conversed with the other three adults. _

_Hermione tried to catch their words, but a silencing ward had made that impossible. She simply waited, watching as the thick logs in the fireplace burned on, and after a length cracked and fell to ashes._

_She watched the flame for what seemed like hours upon end, her eyes never straying. Slowly the once leaping fire began to diminish, the wood beginning to disintegrate. _

Never let your fire die.

_The embers glowed a fierce red for a while, but soon also began to fade. Hermione looked on for a moment before she could bear the sight of the dying fire no more._

"Incendio_," she whispered, a tear coursing down her cheeks._

_It didn't normally bother her when the fire in her fireplace back at her flat died out. Why was she so intent on seeing the fire in front of her now live? The cold truth of it soon hit her like a splash of cold water. "I'm afraid," she murmured. "I'm afraid that my own fire will die out before my friends can find a new fire to warm themselves with."_

_Almost immediately after the fire flared with new life, the four Founders broke the small warded circle of chairs. Helga looked absolutely pleased, a sign that she had fought and won for her idea. Godric only looked bemused, probably because he had watched the normally placid witch stand up for her choice. Salazaar looked absolutely furious, though he fought to hide it, failing miserably._

_Rowena made her way to Hermione and conjured an armchair so that she could sit in front of her heiress. The slim brunette Founder took the young woman's hand in her own soft one, her eyes filling up with a sense of obligation and seriousness._

"_Hermione," she hesitated, before Helga gave her a glare. "We're not _just_ the Founders."_

_She laughed, a sound that was hollow and tinged with weariness. "What, are you all mass-murderers or whatnot?" she asked, not in the mood for any more stalling._

"_No, my dear," she said, tightening her grip. "We are of the ancient ones – the gods and goddesses."_

**Author's Note**

_Am I not so wonderfully and deliciously evil to end the chapter like that? Think about it, if I finally decide to abandon this story, you'll all hate me for the rest of my short-lived career as a Fanfiction writer. Won't that be lovely?_

_Anyhow, imagine how surprised I was when the mention of abandoning story gave me eleven reviews. Imagine that! Eleven reviews! I don't know whether to say I'm touched or sort of disappointed. I'm touched that so many of my readers don't want me to give up, and yet I'm disappointed that there are so many people who decide only to review when I threaten to stop writing._

_You've all heard my complaints, how much time I am giving up to do this, and how much trouble I could get in if I were found out by my parents, so I'll spare you this time around. However, that doesn't mean that they're not true right now. In fact, they are more important than ever as we enter the half-days that lead up to Thanksgiving. This is because I have more time than usual to write, and that usually leads to longer chapters. Now the question is: do you deserve them?_

_I suppose I'll keep writing if all of my reviewers keep up the vigilant reviewing. The number of readers also increased dramatically. It sped up from the low thirties for chapter seventeen to the low eighties for chapter eighteen. As I said before, keep this up and I won't stop. :wink:_

_Lastly, I'd like to thank all of the reviewers that have stuck with me. You've given me support, and that is the most precious thing to a writer. Thank you. Gratias tibi ago._

_royalblueKitsune – A twit and charmer he can be. Ron is an interesting character to play with – he has a volatile temper and yet can be so sweet. You liked the portrayal? I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that. :smiles:_

_autumnxrain – I don't know how I find time to write and ace my classes. :shrugs: I supposed I'm lucky – for now. You'll yell at me for hours? Now that's something I can picture._

_dancrchick – I may continue on if you all keep up this good behavior. It's the fact that people read and don't find a few seconds to review that irks me. Thanks for reading though._

_mistyqueen – Why thank you, and that all depends on whether or not you guys keep up with the tons of reviews and readings._

_Shy-Lil-Dreamer – Heh, I'm evil like that. Thanks, and here's a new chapter… that ends with a cliffhanger. Mwhahahaha…_

_Eowyn89 – Hermione isn't violent – no matter what Ron says, he still is a friend that stuck with her through Hogwarts (Mostly). :laughs: Meet the Moons? We'll have to see about that won't we? Here's your chapter. :smiles: Thanks again._

_Bharathynatyam – Thanks, and here's your update._

_Erjje541r – No on has ever commented on that particular aspect of my story. Thank you!_

_squash – Here's your update, and thanks. Yes, Ron almost makes you want to slap him sometimes doesn't he? Draco a sweetheart? Don't forget he's a Slytherin as well as a loving boyfriend. He's not always nice to people and he doesn't trust very easily._

_carmal – Yes I am totally serious about rearranging my list of priorities. Thank you and here's your update._

_gAIITABella – A tragedy? Why thank you. :smiles: I think I picked a suitably original ending to Ron and Hermione's confrontation. I hope you like it!_

Aphrodite - Greek Goddess of passion, sexual love and womanly beauty. She is considered the epitome of beauty and femininity. Aphrodite is said to have been born of sea foam. She is kind to those she likes, but can be cruel and merciless to those who displease Her. She married Hephaestus, but had an affair with Ares and was caught. Aphrodite is the daughter of Zeus and Dione, and mother of Eros. Her animal totems are the dove, sparrow, swan and swallow. The plants sacred to her are the myrtle, poppy, rose and apple. She symbolizes feminine prowess, sexuality, relationships and flower magic.

Apollo - Greek - God of the sun, light, music, song, medicine, healing, flocks of herds the divine archer and a pastoral God. Patron God of herdsmen. All knowing, wise, beauteous, ever young, He urges forgiveness to all offenses, event the blackest of crimes, so long as the offender is truly penitent. Apollo's mother, Leto, was forced to run from Hera, the jealous wife of Zeus. Leto went to the Island of Delos and delivered two children the twins - Apollo and Artemis. Though Apollos is the God of light, He had a dark side. Under the name of Carneios, he is seen as a God of death. Apollo and Artemis slew all of their mothers children when Niobe, their grandmother, claimed all of Leto's children were more beautiful than the Gods. Apollo was worshipped at the Oracle of Delphi, this is where a priestess would give forth his predicitons. The Greeks believed that the Egyptian God Heru and Apollo were the same deities. Apollo's minor associations include black magic, blessings, justice, divination, oracles, prophecy, creativity, fertility, productivity and success. He is known to have loved young men and women alike. He is sown with his bow and lyre, His gifts from Hermes.

Asclepius - Greek - God of medicine and healing, son of Apollo. He was orignally a mortal. So great was His skill, that he could revive the dead. He had removed the corpos of His mother who had died from a disease sent by Artemis as a punishment for being unfaithful to Apollo. Zeus kiled Aclepius after Hades complained that he was being cheated of His lawful due, but Asclepius' virtues and good deeds won Him a place among the Gods. Snakes are His symbol.

Athema - Greek - Goddess of war and wisdom. She is the daughter of Zeus, born by springing forth fully grown from his forehead. It is believed that She was conceived to carry out deeds that Zeus could not do, but wanted done. Her name - "Pallas Athene", is a representation of Her dual nature. She can be seen as "Pallas", Goddess of storms, courage, strength, battle, war, chivalry and victory. She can also be "Athene", the Goddess of peace, beauty, wisdom, creativity, education, science and the arts. She was responsible for teaching mortals natal care and healing. She also invented the flute, created the olive tree and showed men how to train horses. Athena is the patroness of craftsmen and the protector of cities. Her animal symbols are the cock, snake, owl and the olive tree.


	20. Chapter 19: New Burdens to Bear

_The small, seemingly disconnected pieces of information within Hermione's mind immediately feel into place. "Chronus, the god of time," she whispered wonderingly._

_Rowena smiled warmly at her heiress' apparent speed and efficiency when it came to figuring things out. "He's known to us as Father Time," she said dryly. "Overlapping names and surnames on this plane are common. We typically call each other by the unique title we have procured over the years."_

"_He was trying to tell me about this wasn't he?" she asked, whirling around to fully face the four Founders. "He knew of my heritage and yet he didn't tell me outright that all of you were still… living in some respect on an alternate plane of existence!"_

_The Founder of the Gryffindor House raised a thick eyebrow in amusement before nudging the Ravenclaw House Founder. After a moment of whispering, the brunette goddess frowned and handed him several drab looking feathers. Despite Hermione's initial resentment at being kept in the dark, her curiosity was piqued._

"_What's that for?" she asked, gesturing to the three brown feathers that lay in Godric's scarred palm._

_The older woman's features crinkled in suppressed annoyance. "That," she said rather huffily, "is because I lost a bet with Godric. I had originally thought that Harry would react like this, not you. He said differently."_

_A stony expression locked in place upon the young woman's face. "A bet?" she demanded. "Is that what I'm here for? Is that truly what the great Founders are reduced to? Dragging me here out of my busy life to see if your or Godric's prediction was right?"  
_

_Helga's dimpled face creased with worry. "No, no, my dear," she crooned, rushing to the irate witch's side. "Please try to understand. We're only trying to make you feel at home – does it not bother you when we simply jump into business?"_

_She knew that the Hufflepuff Founder was right – she was allowing herself to be set off by ordinary things that she usually found comfort in. Hermione placed a hand on her forehead and let its weight rest on her elbow. "Just get this over with," she sighed with a tired air. "There's so much to be done, and I suppose I let my nerves get the better of me. I'm sorry."_

_The older witch in the blue and gold robes nodded approvingly at the young woman's unhesitant admittance to her faults. "Godric, you may go first since she is of your House," she said cryptically._

_Nodding in acknowledgement, the Founder of her House deftly stuck two broad fingers in his mouth to let out an ear-splitting shriek. For a moment it seemed as if nothing had happened, but soon Hermione's eyesight could pick up the shimmering outline of Selene's silver steed._

_Next to the elegant silver and white dappled mare was a more distinct outline of a chestnut brown horse with an ebony mane and tail. Each form soon solidified to reveal two equestrian beauties standing near a black expanse of wall. Before Hermione could open her mouth to question the miraculous happening, Godric put a finger to her mouth._

"_You are now a visitor of a separate plane of existence where many things that seem impossible are mundane happenings," he said, mimicking Selene's earlier comment. "But no matter, let us ride!"_

_He vaulted up onto the huge chestnut war horse with a degree of grace and flexibility that seemed out of place in his muscular frame. Hermione mounted Moonbeam without further comment and was only mildly surprised when the horse of the moonlight reared up on her hind legs and shot through the stone wall.'_

_Hermione had only just begun to settle in to the rhythmic pace of the gallop when her steed began to slow. The scenery that had been a pleasant blur of colors and blankness just a moment before began to take the shape of a sparring area copied out of an ancient medieval text._

_Surrounded by towering oak trees, the field was in the shape of a large square of packed dirt. Several circles had been drawn upon the earth in shimmering white that seemed to repel any dust or object that tried to obscure it. Racks of all sorts of weaponry were scattered about the perimeter of the field, in easy reaching distance of anyone who wished to spar._

_The metallic smell of weaponry tinged with an occasional trace of blood lingered in her nose as the clash of metal upon metal rang within her ears. "Welcome to my sanctuary," thundered Godric, dismounting quickly and unsheathing his sword._

_The ruby pommel stone glinted in the moonlight as he drew it out of the engraved sheath with a flourish. A twinkle of anticipation gleamed in his brown eyes. "Duel me Hermione Jane Rowena Granger-Ravenclaw!" he said, bringing his sword into the guard stance._

_An almost imperceptible sound came from her far right, as if the air were being sliced in two. Hermione instinctively held out her hand and felt her fingers clasp the warm hilt of a sword. She brought it to her front and was mildly pleased to feel that it was light but sturdy – the perfect sword for someone who was accustomed to lightweight weapons._

_Perfectly balanced, the mysteriously white blade had been sharpened to a killing-edge. The hilt seemed to be decorated with some sort of ink – a practical idea where extra metal could render the weapon useless._

_Suddenly Godric struck, surely and swiftly, his red and gold blade whistling through the air. At a disadvantage without the signs usual sword fighters exhibited to warn her of their future moves, all the witch could do was block the strike._

_When their swords met, Hermione nearly yelped in surprise at the tremendous force that lay behind the opposing weapon. He withdrew as quickly as he had come, with an equal about of warning as well. However, the brunette was ready this time, catching the midsection of his sword with the tip of hers. _

_Propelled by a burst of adrenaline, she slid her blade up so that the hilt of her sword met the edge of his weapon. She grinned ferally and made a hasty decision to spin her body under the two locked weapons._

_Godric, unsettled by the sudden change in weight, was flung forward by the momentum of his previous move that had occurred a split second ago. However, instead of falling face-first into the ground as she had hoped, Hermione was dismayed to see that the Founder had fallen forward onto his arm, using his long limb as a sort of ramp to land in a crouched position facing her._

_He grinned back at her, a surprised look in his eyes. "Tricky," he said reprovingly. "And to think you were placed in my House."_

_He struck again, catching her off-guard near her shoulder. Hermione grimaced, ignoring the hot throbbing pain that coursed through her shoulder. She quickly brought her sword up in a low arc, knocking Godric slightly to the left. _

"_Borderline legal," she corrected him, a smirk playing upon her lips._

_However he quickly slashed at her unprotected hip, missing only by a hairs-breadth when she leaned over and used the hilt of her sword to flip her body up and over her own weapon into a safer area. "Fancy moves," he said, lunging at her. "But that won't help you for much longer."_

_Before she could react, the Founder brought the flat of his blade behind her, knocking her off-balance. Still unaccustomed to the weight of a sword, even one as light as hers, the brunette was barely able to stay standing._

_As she was distracted by the possibility of skewering herself upon her own blade, Godric played his sword past her weakened defenses and the cold metal rested at her bare throat. "Dead," he proclaimed. _

_She grimaced, placing a glowing hand of magic upon her shoulder wound, barely paying attention as the wound sealed itself. "A good fight," she relented, knowing that her skill with the sword was hardly something to be reckoned with._

"_You're used to weapons of stealth," he observed, giving a hand to help her up. "You use daggers, crossbows, longbows, and sometimes a javelin or spear."_

_Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And you know this because…?"_

_He laughed heartily as she was pulled up with a rather annoyed expression of her dusty face. "You are too like Rowena to not be skilled with the weapons that are her symbol," he said cryptically. "Nevertheless, you may not excel at sparring, but you hold potential. I only fear that you will not have enough time to make good use of it in time."_

_She eyed him warily, now on her guard after his hinted prophetic comments. "What did you bring me here for? You have no need to test my prowess with the sword," she said hotly. _

"_I am Ares, the god of war," he said simply. "I came here to tell you of my position, my powers, and what gift I can bestow upon you."_

_Hermione snorted rather uncivilly. "Am I truly to believe that you are the very epitome of cowardliness and blood thirst?" she asked, her tone impatient._

_Godric led her to a wooden bench behind the ring they had just fought in. "Remember what Chronus told you," he said gently, mollifying the witch with his relaxed and soothing tone. "I am Ares, but I am not exactly what the Greeks believed in. The true Ares is courageous, decisive, somewhat fearless, determined, and rather impulsive when it comes to heroics. My element is fire and I am best known for my prowess in all sorts of weaponry and warfare. Obviously, I look for courage and decisiveness in a person's character – the values I instilled in my House."_

"_Then why do you feel the need to take me here in order to tell me this?" she snapped, her patience wearing thin. _

"_A blessing," he reminded her. "I brought you here to spar – and to analyze your decisions, your way of thinking. Once again, I am astounded by your similarity with Rowena, then again she was always the one best at Divination."_

_The young woman made a strangled noise of disbelief. "I don't even take Divination!" she exclaimed. "I… quit just after a few classes!"_

_The Gryffindor House Founder looked at her fondly and Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that he was rather knowledgeable about that day's events. "Trelawney is an old fool," he said winsomely. "I wish that I had her as a teacher, even though all four of us were taught by Selene. It must have been liberating to yell at her like that after she's pretended to know about Divination for so many years."_

_Then he frowned rather inexplicably. "We're getting off topic, aren't we? Now, I must explain to you exactly what these 'blessings' Helga, Rowena, Salazaar, and I have been muttering about actually are," he continued. "As gods and goddesses, we are granted with the power to bless someone with the element we control. However, there are many rules to this, the main one being that the receiver must be able to shoulder the burden and most importantly, they must be worthy of it."_

"_We're not allowed to tell you how to use the elements we give you, since you only have a small amount of elemental magic at your disposal once we bless you. The main power you have is the power to give," he explained. "You are allowed to bless anyone with one and only one element which they can manipulate to their desire. It was Merlin's idea of balance, thus you are not allowed to bless yourself."_

"_So you are blessing me with the power to give?" she asked. "Are there any restrictions to whom _I_ bless?"_

"_Yes, but there are not as many as we have to keep track of," he replied, starting to clean his own blade. "The person you bestow the element to must be strong of mind, pure of heart, and they must hold a spot dear to you in your heart."_

"_That's it?" she half asked, half stated._

_He nodded, wiping off her sword unnecessarily as she had failed to draw any of his blood. "Take this with you," he said, handing her the gleaming sword of enigmatic white metal. "Moonbeam will take you to Helga. Before you go, I will invoke the power of fire to bless you with its power."_

_As she stood to leave, casting a quick _Scourgify_ on her dusty clothes, Godric caught her chin between his thumb and index finger, eyes filled with unfathomable sadness. "Take care not to lose your heart," he whispered, before letting go and striding off in the opposite direction._

_His touch, usually warm and moist, felt like flaming parchment, scorching her skin so fiercely that she let out an involuntary yelp of pain. Her veins felt alive, burning with the new elemental magic that was now only reined by her temper and words. It hissed and crackled with unsuppressed power as it flowed through her body._

_Trying to put off the idea of elemental magic, Hermione was pleased to find a matching sheath and belt on the far edge of the bench. It was made of some strong, leather-like material. _

_She hesitated before testing the blade against it and was surprised to see that it had not made a single tear. The belt seemed to be supple and smooth under her sensitive fingertips, a gleaming white material that glinted with an occasional flash of an unknown hue of color. The sheath attached to it was made of the same material as the blade of her sword, except its edges had been painstakingly smoothed and rounded by some skilled workman._

_Runes were arranged around the edges, making the gold that they were inked in seem like some intricate, intertwined border design. The center of the sheath was decorated with a flaming gold and fire-colored phoenix that had been depicted bowing its head as if it were preparing to curl up, its wings were spread wide, every flame marked with distinct perfection._

_Her forehead creased as she frowned, fingering the smooth, cool surface of the sheath and sword. Tilting it so that the moonlight would reflect off of its glossed surface, Hermione watched mutely as thousands of colors glinted and sparkled, only to disappear once she had put a finger on what color it could be. "Curious," she murmured. "Curious…"_

_She quickly mounted Moonbeam who had been patiently watching her antics for the past few minutes and fastened the silver clasp on the belt securely. Sheathing the sword with a silent vow to ask Harry to help her with it, Hermione nudged the silver horse's sides._

_The familiar feeling of exhilaration raced through her body as the mare set off at a gallop, coursing through her veins along with the fire element that resided there now, entwining its own sense of power with it._

_The scenery that had just been a blur the past few times she had ridden Moonbeam became more defined now, reds, oranges, and golds standing out among the swirling vortex of colors. _

_Hermione stared to the side for a moment, entranced by the striking clarity of the colors before she felt her steed's muscles relax and slow down. Blinking rapidly to clear her mind of the hypnotic flaming colors, the witch saw that they were in a small field overlooking rolling countryside lands. Helga stood near a shady maple tree, leaning against a neat white picket fence, fingering a small rose in her hands. Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly and was surprised to see that it was colored with brilliant hues of crimson, gold and orange as if the rose had been set on fire._

_Leaping off of the silver horse, Hermione stood uncertainly near the beautiful horse of the moonlight, unsure whether the older woman knew of her presence and not wanting to interrupt her time alone._

"_What a treacherous world we live in for such children to be exposed to bloodshed and the cruelty of a tyrant," murmured the witch clad in golden robes. _

_Unsure how to reply to the comment that Helga had just made in such a mournful tone, the young woman stayed silent. "And such pain that I see bored deep into your eyes and soul," she continued, staring out into the peaceful silence of the Elysian Fields with a shake of her head. "Such pain should be found within the eyes of someone who has lived a lifetime of horrors, not in yours, whose life has been so short. The things that go through your mind – caution, mistrust, manipulation, and battle strategies and sacrifices you must make. They should have never crossed your mentality. The horrors you have seen should be limited to a pet's death and the devastating ideas that run throughout your mind should be of securing a job, never death."_

"_Some people only worry about that," added Hermione, her tone rather hesitant. "Although they do cast a wary eye out for Death Eaters and such, for we are in the midst of a war."_

"_That may be true, but you are not among the normal, are you not? From birth you were set apart by the beauty of your compassion and your fierce drive for intelligence," she replied, her tone mellowing out to a smooth melodic sadness. "It was difficult to be jeered for such inner beauty as a child, but you held on to that and hope. And yet, you treat your own sorrows with little care and attention that you lavish among outsiders. You bear a burden that is not placed properly in your mind."_

_The young woman's face darkened slightly and her mouth tightened into a straight line. "You are not to judge what is mine to bear," she said, her tone harsher than before. "You do not know the pain that courses through you, the shock and anger, when that emerald green jet of horror comes through your wand to extinguish the life of your only true family."_

"_I see that Chronus did not have much luck in delving further into your mind on this topic," commented Helga, still fingering the small flame colored blossom. "But I shall leave you on this eve with a blessing that will soften your hardened mind and allow you to sleep in peace on stormy nights. I give you the blessings of my power and that of Gaia, our mother earth. Earth – the element you become one with after death and during life – is the most fundamental power to have. Although your strengths shall forever lie in the realm of flame because of your inner fiery strength, Earth shall be the second in line for when the flames begin to sputter."_

_Finally, the Founder of the Hufflepuff House turned around to reveal glossy blue eyes and a sad but proud smile upon her coral red lips. Crossing the short distance between them, she placed a motherly peck on Hermione's cheek, letting the unshed tears in her eyes finally fall down her round cheeks. "Do us proud," she said fiercely. _

_The touch of Earth was gentler and more subtle than Godric's blessing. At first it was moist and warm, like the earth was after a shower of rain and sunshine, but then there was the curious sensation of vines clinging to her skin before diving into the core of her being before spreading out through her blood, mingling freely with the flames._

_Something within her mind had softened a previously angry and hard focus, and Hermione curiously probed her mind to find that the harsh memories of war had faded slightly into the back of her mind where she could easily draw them back up, but where they would never bother her for several weeks._

_Swiftly she mounted Moonbeam, touching the sheath of Godric's gifted sword to make sure that it had stayed in its proper place. Suddenly, she felt the soft tendrils of hair that she had so carefully arranged that morning shift to accommodate something new. Casting a quick _Acclame _spell, Hermione watched as the air in front of her shimmered and formed a crude-looking mirror._

_Her brown locks of hair had been carefully rearranged to display a tiara made of a fine gold mixed with bronze for strength. The base was finely wrought into intricate swirls that reminded Hermione vaguely of a dancing flame that heightened slowly as the tiara reached the area above the very center of her forehead. At the peak of the flame mountains that stood one inch high was the rose that Helga had just been holding._

"A gift for you…_" echoed a small voice in her head.  
_

_Wiping away a tear that had unconsciously escaped her blinking eyes, Hermione nudged the silver mare to indicate that she was ready to leave the bluff. The horse reared magnificently once more like it had so many times before, but the witch was accustomed to it and stayed firmly in the saddle. Soon as the landscape began to rush by once more, she lay a hot cheek on Moonbeam's soft hide and watched as colors of the flame and earth jumped out to form indistinct objects and shapes._

_The sharp jolts of each thundering gallop that had previously been softened by the saddle alone were now even softer as the earth beneath the two beings seemed to come up and accept each footfall graciously._

_Sensing the slowing of strained muscles beneath her, Hermione jumped off of Moonbeam, holding on to the sword as to keep it from slipping out of the sheath. "I'll walk," she murmured quietly to the tiring mare. _

_The silver-gray eyes fleck with white and golden hues seemed to acknowledge her kind action and Moonbeam buried a smooth and moist mouth into her neck, blowing softly. Laughing slightly, Hermione pushed her away with a small pat on the head. "I'll be back soon," she said quietly._

_Striding forward down the shadowed path where no moonlight seemed to glow, Hermione furrowed her brows in concentration and tilted her head in thought. Her deft fingers quickly unbuckled the belt at her waist and let the glittering white material slide into her hands with the sheath and sword attached to it._

_Although they were in a place of no light to be seen, the young woman stifled a gasp of shock as she saw the phoenix that had been emblazoned upon the sheath. Each carefully defined curve and angle was now aglow with a fiery light that made the legendary creature seem alive. The runes were also bathed in light, although a softer one of gold._

_Dropping the sheath in shock, the brunette watched as the magnificent weapon dropped to the dusty road surface. Then she frowned slightly to see that the sword remained firmly in place where a normal blade would have slid out from the impact upon the ground. Gingerly, she picked it back up the placed a shaking hand on the hilt of the sword._

_Drawing it out without any effort, Hermione turned the now empty sheath over to see that a fall had not damaged or dirtied it in the slightest. Resheathing the sword, Hermione held her breath slightly and tilted it upside down and nothing happened. The blade stayed firmly placed in the sheath._

_Driven by the idea of discovering the enchantments that had been so obviously layered upon the exquisite weapon, the young woman grabbed a hasty handful of dirt and rubbed it onto the smooth white surface._

_Lifting her hand, she watched dumbfounded as the dirt was repelled by a shimmering shield of translucent magic and sent careening down towards the surface it had come from. A smile twitched upon her lips as she recognized the charm against thievery, dirt, and wear. It was a sword made to last for millennia – but only if it had one last charm…_

_Shifting her grip, Hermione drew the sword from its scabbard with a feral light gleaming in her brown eyes. She waved her left hand and conjured a large boulder and whirled the blade quickly through the air. It met the obstacle silently and sliced through it with only some exertion of her part. _

_Lifting the blade, Hermione was pleased to see the surface glowing slightly with a strong shield against dents, scratches, or any type of imperfection that might make the sword harder to wield._

_Suddenly, the smell of fear and horror swept away the exhilarating jubilation she was experiencing. Opening one eye to the magical Sight she had been born with, the nervous witch shifted the sword into the guarding stance. Once again she grimly wished that Harry were here with his superior swordsmanship and Legimency skills._

_A rustle to the front of her sounded out as the intruder approached, sending a bird that had been roosting there flying out in terror. Her muscles tensed and she felt the elemental blessings she had just received boil slightly in her veins, hungry for a fight and the possibility of being used._

_Then, out of the brush emerged a thing of shadow and darkness._

**Author's Notes**

_A _whole_ chapter in the Pensieve – with more to come! This has got to be my longest "memory" ever! I hope you guys are enjoying the new style and I hope that you like my representation of the Founders. I think that this was a totally original idea only fueled by my love for Greek and Roman mythology._

_For those worried about Hermione taking away all of the action from Harry – don't. Yes, she may be playing a bigger part than he is at the moment, but the Boy-Who-Lived is a rather insistent character. I had originally planned him out with a less major role, but he's a pretty annoying bugger. He loves the attention authors give him, and he apparently wanted mine. _

_Also, for those of you who are worried about Hermione being too super-powered – don't. I'm not going to make her a goddess, and I'm not going to make her invulnerable and invincible. As you can see, you're beginning to get a look behind the image she puts out there of her life and strengths. You're beginning to see her discomforts, her weaknesses, and her insecurities. _

_I originally had this chapter planned for released on Thanksgiving, but I couldn't finish it in time. Happy Belated Turkey Day to all who celebrate:smiles:_

_Last but not least, I'm slightly disappointed that the 109 views of chapter 17 with 11 reviews dropped back down to a miserable 68 views and 6 reviews for chapter 18. I am hoping with all of my heart that my fans and reviewers are not forgetting me. I'm working hard to bring these updates every week, regularly. Please make sure that I keep thinking that all of this work is being fully appreciated._

_Thanks to all of my loyal reviewers!_

_snow-angel22 – Guilty? At least you found time to finally review. My only hope is that you continue to do so. Thanks for your devotion to my story though, it's nice to know someone out there likes my poor pieces. I'll try to keep up the good work – thanks:smiles:_

_Eowyn89 – You get more of the gods and goddesses in this chapter, but the Moons? I'm saving _that_ for later. Mwhahahaha! Cruel? Mean? Fantastic? Why thank you. :laughs: Although I must say I've never heard those three in one sentence before. Here's your new chapter! Selene? I'm glad you liked her – she's one of my favorite as well. _

_gATITAbella – I supposed everyone but the very elite fanfiction writers has a similar problem to mine. I started out with 235 hits and that has slowly jumped around before getting to 109 hits and then slowing down to a meager 68. I hope your fanfiction survives. Finish before I think of abandoning it? Doubtful. This story has quite a while to go. Hermione doesn't have revenge on those close to her in her blood. I don't know if Ron will ever get seriously hurt by her – he's too dear to her for that. Thank you for your patience – here's your new chapter!_

_Kitty glitter – That's one of the highest praises I have had. :hugs: Thank you! I think this fanfiction is long enough to be a novel – don't you? Then again publishers are crazy. :hugs again:smiles:_

_mistyqueen – Here are two Founders, two more to go. Although I do believe Rowena's portrayal is rather obvious… Anyway, here's the update!_

_dancrchick – I'm touched that you would stay up that long to read and review my update. :hugs: Thanks, and yes, the spats are a perfect outlet for my dislike of the RHr ship that J.K. Rowling likes so much. You will hear Slytherin's eventually… Perhaps in the next chapter… Here's your update, I do hope you'll read it soon. I hope you have a nice trip though, perhaps I'll even have an update before then!_


	21. Chapter 20: The Fates and Nepenthe

_A prickling sensation raced up Hermione's neck, chilling her heart as the bile-like taste of fear gathered in her mouth. Nervously, she clipped circled the shimmering white belt around her waist and buckled it, fingers fumbling slightly with the buckle. Shifting the sword to her right, the young woman eyed the obscured darkness beyond her eyesight with dreading apprehension._

_A sudden sound cut through the air with alarming speed, and her honey-brown eyes darted about frantically, searching for the object that had made the movement. Suddenly, she could feel the hot breath of a living creature breathing softly on the nape of her neck._

_Terror coursed through her veins like never before. Here she was – the visitor on a separate plane – with no knowledge whatsoever of the dangers that lay in wait for her. Who knew if her magic was any match for a horrific being of the shades?_

… many things that may seem impossible are mundane happenings…

_The words of the moon goddess struck her with full-force as the brunette wheeled around, sword guarding her body but ready to strike. Her tightly tied pony tail whipping around with a sharp motion, she found herself looking into a set of unfathomable black eyes._

_A black rapier with elegant gold curlicues licking at its edges slid up against her blade, making a slow chilling sound of grating metal. Slowly, the aristocratic features of Salazaar Slytherin can into view, the soft glow that her weapons emitted doing nothing to soften his cold appearance._

_Hermione blinked rapidly in confusion, and then in calculation at his sudden, shadowed arrival. Back in Godric's room, he had hidden his face within the dark recesses of his voluminous cloak, ridding any chance of examining his features. However, in the glowing light that her sword and sheath cast, the young woman was able to distinguish a proud jaw line, medium length jet-black hair, and subtly familiar facial features._

_Upon closer examination, her keen eye picked out exactly what was so familiar about his face. His nose, bottomless eyes, and even his facial structure were traits distributed among England's most prominent pureblooded lines. Suddenly, she realized with a shiver that Britain's oldest families had mostly all descended from Slytherin line in more ways than one._

_A smirk flitted upon his thin lips that pulled up at the edges, in preparation for the oncoming jeer. "Do not raise your blade against mine, you are no match for me," he sneered, twisting his own weapon over hers and bringing it harshly down._

_Caught off guard, she barely suppressed a yelp of pain as the glittering sword she had failed to keep in a ready stance was pulled towards the ground with a sudden and solid sweep. Her arm buckled and was twisted rather awkwardly under the strain and the witch fell to one knee to alleviate the pain._

"_Dirty tactics are the only ones that work," he said, holding her in the locked position for an agonizing moment before releasing her. "You would do best to remember that when you find time for some much-needed practice. That blade that you hold is not fit for your low level of swordsmanship. Godric had no right to present it to you."_

_Quickly resheathing the weapon that had suddenly become a burden to her injured limb, Hermione rubbed her right arm in annoyance. "Do not dance in circles around me, sir," she hissed. "I know not of the ramifications you speak of. This sword was a gift, and one from a god quite capable of making decisions. I kindly ask that you cease your insults and make your point before I become reacquainted with my ancestors."_

"_Ares," he snarled, spitting out the words like a deadly poison, "is only good for making rash decisions. He holds his own opinion about the words of the oracle, and I do as well. You do not fit with the standard – the requirements. He was sorely mistaken when Rowena finally enlightened us of your presence."_

_Confusion clouded her mind as his vague implications of a prophecy swirled around in her thoughts. However, Salazaar had not Founded the Slytherin House and instilled the values of subtle thinking, manipulation, and trickery in his House for no reason. There would be no straight answer coming from him._

_Clearing her face of any anger, Hermione took several breaths of air. She hadn't realized that she'd been holding it in until the gratifying inhalation of new air graced her lungs. "I cannot influence the decision of a god," she replied, her brown eyes cold and distant. "It is only within my powers to do my best and obey his wishes."_

_Agonizingly slow seconds ticked by in still silence as the Founder shifted his weight slightly and ran a calculating gaze over her proud and unrelenting form. Finally, with great reluctance, he admitted, "You are strong of mind and become one with the shadows throughout your life. Yes, you are not perfect for my element. The Potter boy has yet to come, thus…"_

_His muttered words trailed off in silence once more, but the witch waited patiently for his pensive attitude to drop once more. "I am Asclepius, god of medicine and healing, originally son of the great Apollo," he said, as if parting with the valuable information a little more than grudgingly. "I owe a debt to Rowena – thus I must give you're the background I come from. You may have heard that I was a master potion maker. That is true, and the way it ties in with my deistic abilities shall be revealed to you at a later time."_

"_Later?" she interrupted, unable to contain herself. "Who says I have any more time?"_

"_Silence," he hissed, before continuing. "As a mortal, my skill was great – so great that I was able to accomplish the legendary old magic of Necromancy. The god of the Underworld, Hades, demanded my life in return for the lives I had cheated him of. However, by some unknown twist of Fate, Zeus struck me down only to deify me."_

"_Snakes," she whispered wonderingly. "That is why the Slytherin House was an emblem is snakes – they are your symbol."_

"_Naturally," he replied condescendingly. "Perhaps you might have figured that my element consists of all of the shades of the world, living and not. That is how I originally approached you, my footfalls were muffled by darkness and my form obscured by shadows."_

"_But you said before that I do not fully represent your element," she finished, the pieces of the mystery from moments ago falling into place. "Harry is the one who will hold the most ground in the realm of shades."_

"_He is the perfect candidate," Salazaar admitted grudgingly. "It was a close decision, but you shall only be awarded with half the powers of a Shadow Mage."_

_A light wraith-like feeling slithered over her face and body, lighter and less fierce than her previous blessings. The shadow magic that entered her body peacefully blended in with Fire and Earth, as inconspicuous as its true form._

_Almost as soon as the light sensation had faded, the robed man pressed a small vial in her palm._

"_It is Nepenthe, taken from a river of the Underworld, that shall give one being eternal forgetfulness of any grief, sorrow, and guilt," he said shortly. "Use it wisely."_

"_Gratias tibi ago," she said softly, finding no better alternative of thanking the noble god that stood before her. _

_He nodded curtly and turned before melting silently into the shadowy darkness in which he had just come from. Hermione walked down the dirt path a small ways before the silvery form of the mare Moonbeam came into view._

"_Take me to Rowena," she said with a heavy air. "Take me to relief of all of these mysteries."_

_The mare of moonlight sprang into action, galloping with renewed vigor that had been restored to its sleek body after a substantial rest. Instead of watching the scenery about her, Hermione focused upon her inner thoughts that tumbled about restlessly._

_She had blended in with the shadows, hiding from her friends and from her past for three excruciating years. Of all of the elements, Shadow should have come the most naturally to her. Yet, Salazaar had even gone to the lengths of admitting that Harry, his rival's heir, was most suited for that element._

_A sense of doubt permeated her thoughts with unnerving ease. Everything in the world had come so easily to her – everything she guessed or thought to be true was always pretty much right. Now, a thing that she had been so ultimately sure of had come up as a miserable disappointment._

_The lack of powers was not what bothered her. The unsettling thought was not _knowing_. Hermione shivered. The void in her knowledge of the future dominated her fear. Her fear of the unknown disturbed her – that much she was sure of._

_However, her troubled musing was interrupted as the swift gallop of her mare slowed into a mild walk. Blinking slightly to clear her mind momentarily, the young woman looked around to see that she was at the door of an unfamiliar room within an elegant castle._

_Shaking her head, the witch drove away the curious thought of passing through a building without knowing. Dismounting with her sheathed sword bouncing lightly against her thigh, the brunette crossed the short distance between her and the mighty wooden doors with purposeful strides._

_Clasping the warm gold handle, Hermione frowned slightly before rearranging her features and posture to exude nothing but confidence. She had many questions for Rowena, but something told her that the Founder would be sorely disappointed if she did not at least make an effort at acting as if there was nothing amiss._

_A mighty tug finally wrenched the heavy door out of its resting place, and the young woman walked slowly through to see a spacious library with books and shelves as well as several elaborate chests and tables as far as her eye could see. As she stood in the midst of the ancient tomes and grandeur, a small golden globe raced up to her._

_Floating so that it would be at her eye level, Hermione was surprised to see the lovely face of Rowena smiling at her. "Come, dear, take a left from where you are now and go past seven shelves. Then proceed straight down the aisle flanked by the seventh and eighth bookshelf to where I am."_

_The Ravenclaw House Founder's warm features slowly dissolved, colors swirling about before rearranging themselves to form a crystal clear picture of a small table laden with scrolls with double French doors to the far left seeming to lead out onto a balcony._

_The golden sphere flitted away after ensuring that the young heiress had received the message, emitting a small, curious tune as it meandered down a random aisle. Shaking her head slightly and laughing, the brunette carefully walked directly left as she counted bookshelves._

_Each one seemed to be made of some dark, rich wood with a glossed shell over it as well as some sort of silvery sheen that indicated a spell or charm of some sort. It was probably a ward against thievery, age, and dust or something just as practical. Finding the seventh bookshelf, the witch set down the rather small path, noting that even though there seemed to be an impossible amount of books, scrolls, and stone tablets crammed into the wooden storage spaces, everything had been either carefully restored or protected by numerous spells in addition to the wards._

_Preoccupied by her assessment of the various charms used to prevent the ancient texts from crumbling into ashes, the witch very nearly ran into a table. She felt a rather sharp twinge in her right hip as she absently drove it into the pointed edge of a rectangular table and withdrew with a rather irate look._

_Blinking slightly to clear and organize her thoughts once more – something she had been doing _way_ too often these days – Hermione was pleasantly surprised to find herself in an area that seemed to be an exact replica of the scene Rowena's mysterious orb had shown her minutes ago._

"_You have come," stated a voice rather unnecessarily._

_Drawing her wand in a flash, the WWIA agent whirled around to find Rowena lounging comfortably on a small loveseat, her midnight blue gown fanned out on the creamy material of the furniture. "Point that in some other direction if you truly wish to hex something," advised the older witch. "It wouldn't do much good if you were to hex a goddess."_

_Hermione shook her head in despair. "I didn't sense you," she murmured. "I keep letting my guard down – I'm getting out of practice, or worse, I'm losing my touch."_

_The keen Founder beckoned for the younger woman to take a seat next to her. The weary witch complied without hesitation and felt a cool, comforting hand stroke her temple with a sort of motherly soothing touch. "You are stressed – perhaps we have kept you in this realm for too long. Mortals are not meant to stay here for it ages them to move or travel long distances on this plane – that is why Selene gave you Moonbeam," she said, her tone silky like honey and sugar. "Do not worry, for the time you have spent here also has made you stronger as you have not yet died of exhaustion. I expect no more or less than what you have done."_

"_Mute your distress, my child," she continued soothingly. "My gift of the element of water shall shape to your desires. It is adaptable like you were, and are. Calm yourself."_

_A smooth wave of coolness spread over her body, leaving her senses strangely exhilarated and yet calm. The water blended effortlessly with the rest of her elemental gifts, filling in the holes that had previously made her feel so incomplete._

"_Thank you," she breathed, opening her eyes that she had unknowingly closed. "Water reveals, doesn't it? It reveals your needs and changes to accommodate them as best as it can."_

"_True, however, your task, your Fate is something I sorely wish I could reveal to you, but that is not the way of the gods," she continued, pausing for a moment of reflection. "It will end one day sooner than you expect, and the unthinkable will be imagined, the invisible shall be seen once more, and the impossible shall happen. You, your beloved and dearest friends shall begin to questions loyalties and feuds formed and secured ages ago."_

"_Must everyone in this crazed world speak in riddle?" snarled Hermione, suddenly angered by the Founder's calm voicing of her future. "Why? Why can you not reveal what is _mine_ to know?"_

"_It is not the way of the gods," she repeated firmly, her eyes sparkling unsmilingly._

"_What is your way then?" she demanded, rising from Rowena's comforting grip. "Is it to bet over things that you have deemed me not to be privy to? I am living in a war – one where the Dark Lord shows no signs of stopping until he has eliminated all of those not pure of blood. Every day there are children being murdered in their sleep, mothers that shall never return home, and fathers sent out to fight a war that they were not _meant_ to fight."_

"_What way is there to live? We survive on what is given and nothing more," she continued on, eyes flashing dangerously. "There are moves we make that openly claim the lives of many. Others that we make are subtle and insinuated, ones that shall bear larger fruit than a direct confrontation at times. Now tell me, what is your way, o mighty goddess?"_

"_Everything has a dual nature, does it not?" asked Rowena calmly, hands folded in her lap. _

_Hermione whirled around, mind still consumed by the fire of anger and fury, a surprised look briefly flitting across her features. "What?" _

"_A dual nature, my dear," she repeated. _

"_What does this have anything to do with my task, our Fate, and my duty at hand?" she snapped irritably. _

"_I am Pallas Athena, a name that a bear in reminder of my dual nature," she explained, pulling a tome off of a nearby shelf. "I am Pallas, goddess of storms, courage, battle, innate strength, war, chivalry, and most importantly, victory. As the goddess Athena, I am the epitome of peace, beauty, wisdom, creativity, education, science, and the refined arts."_

"_Both of my natures hold traits that are pillars in a society of any kind may it be one of wizards and witches, man and woman, or even among creatures. However, as important as they are, you cannot help but notice the conflicting interests of my natures," she said, her voice softening slightly as she flipped through the book she had procured. "We are centered on balance and the will to let what is to happen in the future play out, using your innate talents to somehow work out an outcome in your favor."_

"_You cannot give me any information that would disrupt the balance," murmured the young woman, suddenly placated and feeling rather ashamed of her outburst. "Else the world would be lost. As my ancestor and patron goddess, you are not obligated to defend me or help my future be better than others. I, as your heiress, am expected to maintain the balance and the ideals and characters you instilled into the world long ago."_

_The Founder cocked her head to one side, her eyes finally straying from the book. "At last you realize your position, maiden of the flame," she said approvingly. "Perhaps you have not yet succumbed to the tempting draw of what may be. Focus on what you can do now to affect the future, not what you can do in the future to affect what would then be considered the present."_

"_Helga," she muttered fiercely. "That witch is too clever for her own good sometimes!"_

_Rowena raised a chestnut brown eyebrow in amusement. "I suppose you have deduced why she did not tell you of her titles."_

"_Bloody hell!" she swore, sinking into the couch once more and burying her face in her hands. "I was so stupid! I-I wasn't thinking at all. I should have made the connection between her silence and all that murmuring about the cruelty of Fate."_

"_Have you taken a guess at which of the Moirai she may be?" probed the Founder._

"_Clotho, the selector of thread," Hermione answered immediately. "I suppose that they had additional forms that the Greeks didn't know of, seeing as Helga is still her childish and beautiful self."_

"_Ah yes, she was always so careful that we were all shocked to know that she would accept all of those who our Houses rejected," reminisced the woman in a flowing blue and gold gown. "We knew so little of her then and simply overlooked it as an act of her never ending kindness. She instilled a sort of filter upon Hogwarts – one that would not allow a child that was not Fated for something more than a normal life pass into her halls."_

"_No one noticed as Hufflepuffs graduated and rose to power or gave their life to save another's. They simply _assumed_ that the sources were mistaken about their House. Salazaar, Godric, and I were always given the lion's share of the credit for Hogwart's success," she smiled sadly. "Helga never minded, but she always watched her students from a corner, keeping an eye on those who she deemed worthy of her attentions." _

"_Nothing is what it seems to be, is it?" asked the younger witch with a quiet tone. _

"_Perhaps, but it all depends on your specific perception," agreed Rowena. "The Greeks were right about the Fates handling the death and inherent goodness, evil, and personal demons. However, they never knew of the Moirai's power over a person's destiny throughout life. Some things we perceive to be true, are, while some are not. That is the sole truth we must bear throughout our passage through the halls of mortals."_

_The two fell into a companionable silence, for the past few moments had bonded their mindsets and beliefs beyond compare. They were two who had at one point, vehemently denied what was there for them to realize. They were two who had been lauded for their gifts of beauty, intelligence, and foresight. They were also two who had been cursed with the breaking burden of secrets that all would share with them but no one else._

"_One last question," stated Hermione firmly, her pure voice breaking the heavy silence between them._

_Her ancestor nodded graciously. "But of course," she smiled._

"_You were not always a goddess, were you?" challenged the young woman, eyes sparkling fiercely with something that resembled triumph. "The way you avoided mention of a possible life as a deity before your time as a mortal, the reference to gods and goddesses as if you were not truly one of them…"_

_Rowena's smile only widened, exposing several gleaming white teeth. "But of course," she repeated._

_Hermione frowned – this was not an answer that the older woman would give up easily. Her mind was beginning to tire as organized sections of thoughts became undone. Every inch of her body felt as if she were being weighed down by a thousand weights that threatened to pull her quivering limbs into a heap, never to rise again. Her eyelids were heavy with fatigue, as if she had spent a night poring over a book instead of sleeping._

"_A different god…" she thought out loud, her tongue thick and clumsy like sandpaper. "A different god was here, in your place, as you were still mortal…"_

"_And?" she encouraged, her smile beginning to resemble that of the muggle cartoon Chesire cat._

"_You… You replaced him… or her," she said, struggling to form thoughts that she would have retrieved from her memory and fitted together ages ago under normal circumstances._

"_But how do I know everything there is about Athena?" she prompted, forcing the weary girl to delve further down into the mystery. "Why am I able to tell you these things as if they are my own memories?"_

"_A job," she croaked, feeling her body sap her mental strength away in order to stay upright. "They made you a goddess… when it was time… replacing the past… giving… giving you…"_

"_Knowledge," finished Rowena. "They deified me when it was time for the previous Athena to pass on. Such power that the gods and goddesses are granted – it is something that must be shared, not hoarded. The very concept of a deity is that they are all able to tap into a raw power that they are capable of shaping and using to exact balance in the world."_

_The younger witch nodded, her mind suddenly beginning to feel fuzzy. "I-I.. need to leave," she gasped._

_The blue and gold gowned woman gave a sad smile and placed a plain brown feather in her hand. Her mind barely identified it as the one of the few she had paid Godric with earlier. "Stay true to your heart," she whispered fiercely as she whisked Hermione into a bone-crushing hug._

"_Feathers of an eagle… for when it is time to fly…"_

**Author's Notes**

_I'm terribly sorry about the late updates and all. I just handed in my ten paged Aeneas Diary assignment typed in 10 point font for Latin class. I have several Science and Language Arts projects due soon this week or the following week. December is going to be hell until Christmas break comes around._

_I'm trying, very hard, to bring these updates. In fact, I've hardly given a thought to _Consequential Revenge_. So little attention is paid to that piece, that I fear it may become an abandoned piece until I finish this._

_Alright, now on to this chapter: I had originally intended to write a bit of Hermione's return from three or so chapters of a visit to another plane, but I'm simply out of time. In fact, my father should be home any minute, so I'm cutting this a tad too close for comfort as it is._

_Things are coming together as you can see, but problems in what seems like a foolproof plan that the Order of the Phoenix is devising are beginning to appear. Will Harry kill Voldemort? Or will Hermione and Draco use the ultimate bond of love and trust to defeat the most evil Dark Lord the world has seen? You shall find out… when I write and upload that part. :evil laugh:_

_gAITTAbella – Thank you. Detail is what I consider to be one of the most crucial elements in a good story._

_dancrchick – Imagination is boundless. I do hope you can entertain the idea of her ability to give for a while. It seemed like an original idea to me. I like your theory on the movies, and I whole-heartedly agree. Thanks!_

_mistyqueen – Visualization is a wonderful thing, isn't it? That's what I love about a good piece of writing. You can escape into a world created by your thoughts and a writer's simple but powerful words._

_autumnxrain – Yay! Yes, things are coming together, but the climax has yet to come. KFC thing?_

_Eowyn89 – Draco is nice… :grins: But the gods are dominating this part of the story… for now. :shrugs: Nothing I can do about it. Ah the Moons… We shall meet them… soon…_

_snow-angel222 – Thanks. :smiles: Things will work out eventually, life has a funny way of doing that. I'm also glad I managed to humanize Hermione, super powers are for gods and goddesses, definitely not her._

_Kitty glitter – My brains have yet to be fried.. :sigh: Unfortunately, they're getting there. Brown feathers? You'll see… And you're welcome, hugs are free:hugs: _


	22. Chapter 21: Veiled Perceptions

A young woman in her early twenties lay motionlessly upon the neutral white sheets of a hospital ward. Tumultuous waves of chestnut brown hair lay across the blank material, lank and slightly dirtied as if it had been neglected for a period of time. Her eyes were half open, the black irises dilated so much that the ebony color seemed to retreat behind a shield of watery golden-brown.

Her tanned skin had mysteriously gained a pale, china-like look to it, giving off the impression that a slight wind could easily break her figure in two. Her cheekbones were more prominent than usual, jutting out to give her warm features a look of shock and fear.

The small uncomfortable-looking bed was not in a private room, but instead sectioned off to provide a weak semblance of isolation. The light blue curtains did not do much to cheer up the four visitors that were crowded about the young woman's listless form. The area was too small, and the air too tense. However, the four occupants ignored it all, their eyes focused solely upon their friend.

A young haggard-looking man sat at the edge of a rickety wooden chair, his face only half-heartedly concealing his distress. He was bent over slightly, resting some of his weight on the creaky mattress as he clasped the patient's cold hand. His lips seemed to move now and then, as if he were murmuring a word to the powers above.

On the opposite side of him were two miserable people that were known about the wizarding world as the most sought-after celebrities. Flaming locks of hair distinguished the young woman – barely in her twenties – as the glamorous Ginny Weasley. A simple emerald green ribbon held her sleek hair in a loose ponytail as she rested her head upon the broad shoulder of Harry Potter.

The most well-known of the Golden Trio had an expression of helplessness and sorrow hidden in the depths of his eyes, blinking every so often to ward away the threat of tears. He had the air of a defeated general, his posture reflecting that of an unsure teenager not yet graduated from Hogwarts.

Near the opening of the wind-rustled curtains was the tall form of Ronald Weasley, looking lost in the midst of couples within the closed off area. The faint lines that hinted at tears from not long ago streaked his freckled cheeks with a sort of aching familiarity. He looked out of place in a room full of his friends and family that was finding both solace and grief from love while he could only derive distress.

The couple seemed to be comforting one another with small touches and whispers, otherwise remaining inconspicuous. Ron seemed to want to desperately atone for some sin, but also wanting to avoid any wrath that the over-extended Draco might dish out.

Finally, the indecision that permeated the atmosphere was broken by the rustle of robes and skirts as two witches gently opened the curtains and entered the cramped quarters. Both wore crisp white clothes, lined with red and black, to signify their position as Healers in the nondescript hospital wing. One was slightly shorter and distinctively younger and slimmer than the first, carrying a folder of parchment as she absently tucked a strand of dirty-blond hair behind one ear.

The first commanded an air of matronly strictness that was further enhanced by her large build and mousy-brown hair that had been messily arranged in a bun. A few wrinkles seemed to appear upon her brow as if she had creased it in worry one too many times. Her hands were constantly moving, whether to gesticulate and emphasize a point, or to administer various potions to her patients.

"Oh dear," she murmured as she neared the comatose young woman. "Such a young thing – and usually so careful too – to be in such an extraordinary case. Still the talk of the Hogwarts staff room…"

"What's wrong?" demanded the seated man, who rose with a shake of his head to reveal eyes of red-rimmed silver.

It was the younger woman acting as an assistant that spoke first. "She is performing a most deadly task," informed the Healer-In-Training, her protuberant blue eyes flashing sadly. "Miss Granger is one of the legendary few capable of Realm-Traveling, an art we believed to be lost for a century or more. This catatonic state indicates her rapidly weakening state, suggesting she may be traveling where she is not meant to be."

"Realm-Traveling?" echoed Harry, his eyes widening in surprise. "Are you implying that Hermione is visiting…"

Suddenly, the raven-haired wizard trailed off, as if remembering an oath of silence. Ginny looked questioningly up at her boyfriend of four years. However, Draco was not so subtle in questioning the young man that seemed to be guarding a secret with his life.

"You know something, Potter," he said, whirling upon his school-time nemesis. "Out with it, you fool! We don't have time to waste here."

A pained expression flickered rather noticeably across the other wizard's face. Then, as if he had made a split-decision, it was replaced with immovable determination.

"No."

"No, what?" exclaimed the blonde in annoyance. "It is not a difficult question or demand. Surely you can comprehend the need for Hermione _alive_."

"No," he repeated simply, dropping his shoulders slightly. "No."

"Are you insane?" the other red-headed wizard demanded. "Harry, just listen to what Luna said. Hermione, our _friend_, is _dying_. Without your help, our forces will be incomplete as our lives will be as well."

"What you two are demanding," he began slowly, closing his shocking green eyes in thought. "What you are demanding is impossible. I cannot divulge the information you seek – whether it is a life or death situation or not. There are… secrets that are meant to remain so. What you wish for me to reveal, in the wrong hands, would mean the devastation of the Light."

Ginny looked rather startled by Harry's change in tone and demeanor. It had gained a forced flatness and decided slowness as if each word were being carefully selected one at a time. A shiver ran up her spine, but she forced herself to remain composed.

"Tell us, Harry," she said, after a moment's hesitation. "Hermione's death may mean devastation as well. She is our only connection to the WWIA, and one of our most valuable agents. Surely your secret can be protected – we're all reasonably skilled Occulemns."

Harry's features hardened further at Ginny's appeal. "You two don't know what you're trying to get into," he said harshly. "You are not meant to know about this. The realm she travels in is one that no mortal should need ever to visit or learn about. Fate has driven us off the path of long-established rules, but you, you still travel that road."

"Should be, not meant to be. Bloody hell, Harry!" snapped Ron, startling everyone by his sudden outburst of noise where he had originally remained silent and inconspicuous. "When have we ever stopped and considered the rules? We were not meant to know about the Sorcerer's Stone back in our first year, but we pursued it nevertheless. What became of that? We stopped V-Voldemort from obtaining the Elixir of Life."

"That was different," retorted Harry, his tone slightly softer as his eyes glazed over slightly. "That was different…"

"Look mate, we all know you hold the key to Hermione's life. Who cares if one secret gets out?" tried the red-headed wizard, changing his tact.

A dry, humorless laugh escaped from the black-haired young man's mouth. "Who cares?" he repeated. "Tell me – who would not care if Voldemort found out about this secret and used it to destroy us all?"

Suddenly, their argument was interrupted by a sharp command tinged with hope.

"Be quiet! Look!" ordered Draco who had been jostled out of his calculating silence.

Ginny, Harry, and Ron all quickly shifted their gaze to Hermione's still figure to see that his form had begun to glow a slow, molten gold color. "Bloody hell," breathed Harry.

"What? What's happening?" asked Ginny, eyeing the gleaming aura with frightened eyes.

The young man shook his head in wonder and marvel. "I can't believe it," he murmured. "She's trying to bring something back…"

"What's she trying to bring back? Should we get our wands out and wait for a dragon or something?" demanded Ron, backing away slightly in apprehension.

"No, nothing like that," replied the dark-haired wizard, gesturing distractedly. "She's bringing back something that… they've given her. From the looks of it, she's spent a lot of power trying to bring it back, so it's probably something that's meant to stay in that realm."

Without a warning, a sharp flare of golden light surrounded the bed, knocking all four to the very edges of the curtained area. The orb-like dome that had been instantaneously conjured at the same moment was also gold in color, its surface humming with energy.

Slowly, as if a veil were being dropped, a silver sheen fell off of the surface to reveal intricate lines of weaving with tiny diamonds dotting the pattern every inch or so. Inside the nearly opaque dome, power thrummed against the walls, seeking an opening.

Then, Hermione's eyes flew open, still unseeing, as if shocked or frightened by an unknown attacker. At that moment, the dome sunk in, as if its surface had turned into some weak cloth and draped itself over the brunette's body. Soon, every inch of her figure had melded in with the dancing gold weave.

In an instant, the diamonds seemed to melt into the weave, sinking deep into the material. Then, the weave began to rearrange itself, as if directed by the hands of a skilled potter. A large portion simply altered its shape to form the outline of an elegant gown while another section was molded into the shape of a belt, sheath, and sword. The smallest amount of the shimmering gold was tucked behind her ear where waves of carefully rearranged chestnut brown hair obscured its shape. Lastly, a small vial seemed to be plucked out of the excess material and was gently placed in Hermione's still finger.

Another explosion of light followed the previous and when the four visitors managed to clear their vision of flashes of gold and diamonds, they were greeted with the seated figure of a tired, but satisfied Hermione Granger.

A flurry of auburn hair quickly was at her side, knocking the brunette over. "Oh Merlin, we thought we'd lost you!" sobbed Ginny, a torrent of tears flowing out after being suppressed for so long.

The young woman smiled tiredly before brushing back a lock of her wayward hair to reveal a rose colored as if consumed in flame, while secretly slipping a small vial into the folds of her gown. "I have new duties, and new responsibilities, Gin," she said softly. "They have chosen me – that much I figured out while trying to regain access to our realm."

Suddenly, she felt a warm hand slip in hers, and Hermione was grateful to see Draco sitting at her side with a small smile on his face. "You all were worried, weren't you?" she said apologetically.

"Like hell we were!" exclaimed Ron, sitting at the foot of the small hospital bed. "We were just trying to get a secret out of Harry before you made that spectacular entrance back into our realm. Do you reckon that _you_ could tell us anything?"

Harry silently slipped in behind the brunette witch, quietly lifting Ginny upon his lap. Slight disapproval showed his feelings, but he gave Hermione a nod. She smiled reassuringly at him taking up her sheathed sword.

Bringing it in a slow small arc, she winced slightly as her overused muscles ached in protest of the movement. As the tip of the magnificent sword touched the marble floors of the Hospital Wing, it transformed into an elegantly carved staff made of the same mysterious white material.

The runes that had once been etched upon the hilt of the sword were now displayed in smooth circles that ran up along the handle and at the orb-shaped top. The phoenix that had adorned the front of the sheath seemed to float in the middle of the orb, flapping its fiery wings.

Leaning most of her weight upon the sturdy staff, the young woman managed to stand somewhat steadily upon her feet. Wordlessly releasing a small amount of her depleted magical stores, Hermione smiled at Draco and Ginny's reactions.

She was wearing a gown of pure white satin with a cowl neck where excess material pooled at her neckline with twisted detail. Golden brooches were fastened at each of her shoulders where a thick piece of material ran over her shoulders and crisscrossed at the back. A magnificent phoenix's head had been skillfully embroidered at her left breast, its neck stretching under her arm. Golden talons grasped at an invisible perch a little below her hip and elegant tail feathers ran along her left leg, crossing over slightly at the bottom to rest over her right ankle.

A small sparkling tiara was nestled in her hair, its light golden colored flames frozen in a midst of a graceful dance. The rose that had been tucked behind her ear now was clasped in the hold of two flames, one inch above the vase.

Harry seemed only content, as if some previous hypothesis had been proven. "Lady of the Phoenix," he said formally, taking her hand with a flourish.

As her school friend lightly kissed the back of her hand, the chestnut-haired witch only smiled. "My liege," she responded, dipping her head gracefully.

"Lady of the Phoenix?" repeated Draco incredulously. "The Warrior of the Flame?"

"The one and only," she replied sarcastically.

"But you're – you're…"

"A myth?" she supplied, raising an eyebrow. "Definitely not; I see Harry has yet to explain several things to you."

Before she could continue any further, Harry cut in, his tone curt and testy. "May I have a few minutes alone with Hermione?" he asked, his eyes, however, held no questioning air.

Reluctantly, Ginny was the first to move and slip out of his laugh. Ron followed suit, easily getting up off the foot of the bed to leave the tense atmosphere behind. Draco, however, had yet to make any move, still holding Hermione's hand firmly but gently with an air of stubborn determination.

"Please, Draco," appealed the young woman, a hint of sorrow in her voice.

His steely gray eyes fixed on her weary features with suppressed confusion and slight anger. "Leave you after you've just recovered from a catatonic state that's held you for over a week?" he demanded quietly, not bothering to raise his voice or keep anger from coloring his tone. "What you have to discuss with Potter can wait. We have several things – and explanations – to cover…"

"And they shall come to you in due time," she cut in smoothly. "Five minutes is all I ask of you, Draco. Surely you can see the reason in my request."

A moment of silence followed her last appeal, before the silvery-blonde haired young man rose slowly from the bed and walked to the opening slit in the stiff curtains. "Make it quick," he said curtly, before disappearing in a swirl of light blue material.

The young woman sighed heavily before sinking back down onto the bed. Harry quickly caught the glimmering white staff that had begun to slip from her grasp and leant it against the wall. "Must you never put aside your grudges?" she asked quietly, staring beyond her school friend's form. "Life is short and precious. You of all people should understand that the most – Draco is neither the boy you knew nor the man you may expect. Things change as the wheel of time spins on."

He shook his head, setting his jaw resolutely. "That is _not_ what we're talking about right now, nor will it be for as long as I still hold the ability to see truly," he retorted.

"But that's what we're here for, isn't it?" she continued on, as if he had never commented. "You asked for this moment alone to convince me against speaking of my Realm-Traveling in Draco's presence."

"To convince you not to break an oath of silence!" he thundered, half-rising before a pale arm stretched out to stop him.

"_Silencio_," she murmured, gesturing with her free hand at the sky blue curtains that hung listlessly around them.

Moving her arm aside with forced slowness; Harry got up and paced near the foot of her bed. "What can I do to make you see what is right?" he muttered angrily. "You – We can't trust Malfoy after three years of no contact from him. It would be suicide!"

"So it is true," she said, her warm brown eyes darkening in anger. "I had thought that you were over such petty grudges you held as a student."

"This has _nothing_ to do with a bloody-sodding-_petty_-grudge," he ground out furiously. "We are in a war where trust has to be earned and maintained, not given freely to some spawn of a Death Eater!"

Ignoring the obvious jab to her heart, Hermione let out a slow breath. "I didn't believe Ginny when she said that you'd never truly make amends with him," she said, the hurt showing clearly in her soft voice. "I believed in _you_. Why can't you ever listen to me, ever? Try to think rationally, just this once. Draco is an ally, not the enemy and we need to keep our allies informed."

"Why don't you try to think rationally?" he shot back, clearly agitated. "For all I know, you could be falling back in love with him. Love is blind, Hermione, or didn't you realize that yet?"

"Mindless passion and obsession is blind, Harry," she rebutted cleanly. "But, no, never love."

"Then – Then _something_!" he said, frustrated.

"That something may very well be the veil that hangs across your eyes, obscuring your thoughts and perception," she tried.

"A veil?" he snorted. "I'm not a girl, Hermione."

"Whoever mentioned a substantial veil?" she shot back. "I'm using it as an abstract term."

"So in short, either one of us has some sort of skewed vision, or maybe both of us do," he laughed bitterly, throwing himself back down on the bed. "Merlin, this talk is going to take a lot of time – time that we don't know if we can afford to waste."

"Neither of us may have any perception problems," she reminded, her tone rather reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley's. "Just… differences."

"And as for this wasteful rendezvous?" he said sarcastically.

"You can keep your oath of silence, which, by the way, states that you can reveal information to those you trust, and I shall 'break' mine," she said coolly, reaching for her staff.

"And you realize the implications of this?" he asked, growing angry once more.

"Of course not," she snapped, leaning heavily on the phoenix staff as she struggled to her feet.

He sighed; Hermione was notorious about going through with her plans with or without his, or anyone's, consent. "Fine, fine," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Tell him, but you're going to have a lot to answer to if this whole thing goes wrong."

Ignoring his mild threat, the brunette witch twitched open the curtains to beckon Ron, Ginny, and Draco back in. Behind her, Harry was eyeing her dubiously while casting various obscure secrecy wards around the area. Shaking her head slightly, she sighed and retreated back onto the bed.

The three quickly were accepted in by Harry's wards and soon had taken up their former positions with Ginny in Harry's lap, Ron at the foot of the bed, and Draco next to Hermione. Each one had a pensive expression of varying degrees plastered clearly across their faces.

In any other situation, the young witch would have laughed outright at her friends' expressions, but the serious air that lay heavily upon them all banished any ideas. Clearly her throat slowly and closing her eyes briefly, she uttered an intelligible incantation.

The orb that had been secured by rings of gold to the staff detached itself and floated softly into her open hands. The phoenix quickly flew away in a burst of flame and the hazy mist was replaced by a panoramic view of the fields Helga had been looking over.

"My journey took place in the Land of the Death and Paradise, the land of the Elysian Fields…"

**Author's Notes**

_I'm terribly sorry about the unnaturally long delay between updates, but I've been busier than ever. I'm also sorry to say that I've had to put _Consequential Revenge_ on hold until I finish this fic, or until my schedule lightens. With the coming New Year, I will have three MATHCOUNTS sessions a week, each spanning at least one hour to three hours or more. I also have All South Jersey to practice for as there is going to be a 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. rehearsal on January 6th and 7th. Then on the 8th, we have our concert._

_As usual, I also have homework and an overload of tests and projects to contend wit, so bear with me. I'm also guilty to say that I received a video iPod for Christmas for getting into MATHCOUNTS and All South Jersey, so I've been quite occupied with downloading videos, "ripping" DVDs to put on it, finding cool photos, and downloading music. _

_Nevertheless, I'll try to find time to write more updates as often as possible. I also have a distinctly ominous feeling about the major piano auditions coming up in March. Hopefully my piano teacher won't be pressing me too hard, but I just recently got my first piece, the October Season by Tchaikovsky, to work on and memorize. I have yet to get the second and I also have to work on a duet. Plus, on top of that all, my mom's leaving for Taiwan which means an erratic schedule with my late-working dad in charge._

_Thank you for being so faithful. However, you may have to sign up for alerts since checking this story on a daily, weekly, or monthly basis may not help as constantly as it used to. Thank you again!_

_Eowyn89 – Here's your next chapter. I do hope you liked it, even though I haven't yet started to play around with the Moons yet. Hopefully that particular part will turn out to be a bit intriguing. Imagination? laughs Just too much thinking time at night._

_snow-angel222 – I haven't yet gotten back most of my project grades, but I'm a good student so I'm fairly certain that I did well. Thanks! I hope my reply to your review via Private Messaging was helpful enough. Hopefully, you've read more into the fascinating subject on the Greek Moirai._

_Rachel – The memory took a lot of time, but I got it done, didn't I? smiles I sort of wove in _The Raven_ elements because it's really a fascinating poem. It took quite a stretching of the old imagination though. winks Thanks!_

_mistyqueen – My life is going to be hell until late February or maybe even mid-March. sigh Thanks, hopefully this fanfiction writing is allowing my writing style some room to mature and improve. It definitely is in need of that._

_gAITTABella – I hate dial-up and slow computers in general. They aggravate me to no end, _especially_ when I have to switch windows. Thanks, I thought that Helga's deity would be fun to play around with. I originally had her written down as Diana since Hufflepuffs can have their loyal and fierce sides, but her being a Moirai fascinated me._

_the shadow in the background – Thanks._


	23. Chapter 22: The Blood of Three

"So…" Draco began slowly, each word carefully enunciated as if his mind was still processing Hermione's fantastic tale. "You mean to tell us that you've met them – the _gods_?"

She nodded, understanding their reluctance to accept her words as the ultimate truth. "I spent most of my time in the realm trying to get out, actually," she remarked blandly, fingering the edge of the bedspread. "Bringing things out of a realm that you are not meant to be in, much less take from, is quite draining."

As she had been recounting her tale, the young woman's white gown had begun to shine with the unnatural golden light once more. Soon, the net of gold thread and precious stone-like figures had covered her whole body, spreading out in waves.

Now it began to fade, leaving a shockingly exhausted figure behind. Hermione's hair was matted with dirt and blood, and her once beautiful gown was torn all over and shredded near her limbs, hanging loosely over her nearly skeletal frame. Wherever the material was torn open, the flaps of white cloth fluttered slightly to reveal dirt-caked wounds of all kinds. The flaming tiara was scuffed and sitting lopsidedly on her head, the beautiful rose now appearing to be quite frail and old.

The most terrifyingly shocking part about her appearance, however, was her face. Pale skin was drawn over her thin features, lending a permanently tired look to her somber features. Her eyes burned fiercely bright, as if consumed by fever, and the outline of gold flames could be seen ringing her pupils.

"Dear Merlin!" exclaimed the redheaded beauty. "What happened?"

"The gods set an illusion over me right before I crossed through back into the mortal realm," she explained belatedly. "It would fail as soon as my magic reached a dangerously low point."

Draco quickly sprung into action, his limbs moving in a blur as he drew his wand and cast several diagnostic charms over her. His wand flashed red a few times before shooting out a few blue sparks. He frowned.

"Malnutrition, dehydration, exhaustion, a bad sprain in the ankle, a partially crushed ribcage, and a few nasty looking gashes," he muttered to himself. "What on earth are they trying to do to you?"

Harry looked contemplative, failing to react even as Ron began to help Ginny and Draco in patching the young woman up. Finally, his shadowed expressions stopped cycling through various stages of thought and he slowly drew out a tiny vial from his deep robe pockets.

"Here," he said roughly. "Take it – you have more need for it than I do."

The small glass container held no more than a mouthful of transparent emerald liquid. His fingers held firmly onto it, as if he were parting with his most beloved possession. Hermione's face softened and her lips formed a small "o" of surprise.

All three confused spectators ceased their endless healing and cleansing spells to stare curiously at the Boy-Who-Lived's guarded expression and the brunette's look of absolute wonder and surprise.

Extending a trembling hand, she gently lifted it from his grasp and eyed Harry with a expression of absolute sorrow. "It hurts, still, doesn't it?" she asked softly, extended a thin hand to cover his still one.

The raven-haired wizard's deep green eyes glistened slightly and he nodded in assent. "It was an honorable passage, Harry, and you know that well. A true sacrifice can only be made from true love and devotion. All we can do is pick up the pieces and live the life that we are given to the fullest. Remember and honor his sacrifice, for life is the ultimate gift," she continued. "But, then again, who would have thought…? The blood of three and the tears of fire…"

"The blood of three? The tears of fire?" interrupted Ron. "What in Merlin's name is that supposed to mean?"

"The blood of three friends, whether they are a few scarce years old or as ancient as a weathered oak tree, combined with the tears of a phoenix," she answered simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in existence. "Thus combined, just a drop of blood each, with six flaming tears brewed in a silver cauldron at the stroke of midnight."

"A Potion, then," he allowed. "But what?"

"If the three who give up their most valuable essence hold a place dear in your heart, the effects can be wondrous and extraordinary," she said, ignoring his insistent questioning. "But if you part with this, you will find that the recipient shall have one wish granted if they are true of heart and noble in their cause."

"Any wish?" he asked wonderingly. "What in Merlin's name makes blood and phoenix tears so special?"

"One of the most valuable things in the Wizarding World are phoenix tears," she explained patiently, however still not taking her gaze from the small vial. "They must be willing shed by a phoenix – a population barely touching one hundred – who finds the recipient worthy of their time and the essence that can put a stopper in life or death."

"The wish," he said persistently. "Could you wish for anything?"

"I'm not sure yet," Harry said suddenly. "In fact, I don't know much about this potion than Hermione – just the basic facts and some theories. I was hoping to keep it off until later, the testing I mean, but maybe a wish and some hope is what she needs right now."

Before Ron could try to react and before anyone could protest, she quickly removed the small cap and drained half of the liquid. It felt smooth, almost like silk, as it traveled down her throat, soothing its sore insides. An acute sensation of having a ribbon of fresh spring water being slowly trickled into her body soon followed as the potion worked its way into her system.

Then gradually, the fleeting sensation of being touched by a soft, comforting wind rippled over her skin and Hermione looked down at the rest of her body and gasped. The mysteriously durable material of her gown was being seamlessly attached back together, and several more serious wounds had begun to dissolve into light bruises in a flash of fiery light.

A precarious shift and ruffling in her hair told her instinctively that the tiara and her tresses were being restored as well. However, the change she was most acutely aware of was the sudden spike in magical energy. It was not much and drained her physically, but it was most definitely happening.

"Any increase in magic?" asked the jet-black haired wizard.

She nodded dumbly, touching her arm lightly as the ghost-like wind died away. "Slightly…" she whispered.

"Regenerative powers," Ginny murmured partly out loud and partly to herself. "Remus was one of the ones that gave blood, wasn't he? Aren't werewolves known for their physical regeneration powers? They're also supposed to have a harder time than most in recovering magical reserves."

"Maybe," he said absentmindedly, stroking his chin. "We'll have to check that out, won't we?"

"You bloody well better check that out," muttered Draco, making his feeling left out of the conversation they had been leading with references to happenings beyond his knowledge very apparent.

Hermione shivered slightly and shook her head, waving away an unconscious thought. "What?" asked the Slytherin Prince, suddenly alarmed by her behavior.

She looked up, startled by his sudden direct address. Blinking hastily, she tried to cover it up. "Nothing, just a memory," she said quickly.

"About what?" he asked, unimpressed.

"About…" she hesitated. "The journey."

"But what was it like?" pressed Ginny. "Was it just a really long path, or something else?"

"It was just terrifying, really," the brunette remarked blandly. "It's a pathway of true darkness where no light can penetrate its gloom. Even the light of my staff refused to shine – when I discovered that I knew immediately that the gods were still testing me."

"But how did you get out?" asked Ron, drawn into the discussion by his insatiable curiosity. "I mean, blimey, how're you expected to travel some road without a bloody light?"

She smiled thinly, closing her eyes as if remembering something from a dream. "I stumbled, I tripped, and I blundered my way through. Time passes differently between realms," she said quietly. "I spent a month traveling."

"A month?" exclaimed Ginny, aghast.

"A month," she affirmed, eyes darkening slightly.

"But what of your wounds?" asked Draco, motioning to the still-apparent bruises on her body. "You don't mean to tell us that you kept 'blundering' into solid walls of rock."

"There are creatures that lurk in that path of no return," she said, her voice hardening at the mere thought. "They are ones that live in the inky blackness after a life spent in sin. Their shapes are twisted and grotesque – their minds even more so. Any goodness that may have been in their hearts has been put out by a millennia of starvation and madness."

"By Morgana," exclaimed Ron. "You had to _fight_ them? In the dark, no less."

"I did, and I barely escaped one time except one of the goddesses decided that having he dead may not be for the best of the world," she spat vehemently.

"So… they told you, right?" asked Harry, his eyes alight. "You met Helga, right? It seems like she would be the one…"

"Of course I met Helga," she snapped, suddenly feeling rather betrayed by the benevolent Founder. "But she just so happened to neglect telling me of her standing when I initially met with her. I had only started to figure out her place in the realm before I was forced to begin my journey back."

"So she told you your Fate," he pressed, leaning forward in anticipation. "I already knew mine, but…"

"No," Hermione replied shortly. "She didn't say anything, not even when she visited me on my way back to the mortal realm. The only thing that she said to me was that there would be 'great injustice on my chosen path', which doesn't mean anything. What kind of warning is one that I can do nothing to prevent? It's as if they're saying that I _deserve_ the hours of relentless feelings of anxiety, hoping that something won't go terribly awry."

"Then did any of the gods tell you anything_ useful_?" asked Ginny incredulously. "After all, you _are_ Rowena's heir – doesn't that entitle some sort of privileges?"

"No – it's nothing like that," she murmured distractedly, turning over the problem in her head. "What I learned of during my journey back is that my Fate cannot be revealed to me. Harry's is a definite path while mine shall be shaped by the strength of my will and the steadfastness of my determination."

"But I don't get it!" Hermione cried suddenly, feeling a sense of bare loneliness and exhaustion seeping through her body. "All my life I've known my path, my destiny, and my dreams. Now the gods have the nerve to uproot the life I was meant to lead happily, despite the service I've done so far. What do they want from me? I am only mortal – the thought of an empty future is gnawing at my mind relentlessly. My decisions will impact the world as much as Harry's, but how can that be? His destiny is the destruction of Voldemort. What possibly could equal or supercede that?"

Ron chose the awkward moment of silence to speak for the first time. "D'you reckon that maybe they've spelled out your future for you already?" he asked hesitantly. "You were the brightest witch in our year, one of the most powerful, and you're now the top spy at an intelligence agency half of us didn't know about. You were always destined for something great – admit it. You always made it closest to V-Voldemort with Harry. Maybe the injustice done to you will be the wait – there's no way you can handle everything. As you said, you're mortal just like the rest of us."

"But that doesn't mean anything!" she reiterated, shaking her head and burying her face in her hands.

Draco's hand slipped around her and pulled her into a warm embrace. "That's only because you refuse to let it take on any meaning," he said, beginning to see the red-haired Gryffindor's point. "You're not ready for this yet. Perhaps the gods are rushing this. Perhaps you're not ready to take on the mantle of the Lady of the Phoenix."

"There's reason in my usually thick-headed brother's argument," added in Ginny. "Legend proclaims that the Lady is the emblem of the Light side, motivator of the weak, uniter of the strong, and the epitome of sacrifice for the greater good. She is a lady of noble birthright but also raised as a commoner and often shunned for her supposed lineage. You fit the description, but you're not ready for the stress that will be added on to your mind. There's too much that's being handed to you right now."

Hermione squared her shoulders, looking at each of her friends with a fiery glare of stubborn resolution. "You're mostly right, Gin, but you're wrong about me not being ready," she said decisively. "There is no time for weakness now; we have less than three months to pull this off. The estimated time of the Last Battle will be near Christmastime and it's already the fifteenth of October. Even if I were not ready, there is simply no other path for me to take."

Harry looked strangely at her for a moment before whispering something into the youngest Weasley's ear. A grim expression flickered across her pursed lips, but she slipped off of his lap and gently guided herself and Ron out of the small enclosure.

As the light blue curtains fluttered to a stop, Hermione leant against her staff and made to leave but was stopped by Draco's sharp voice cutting through the air and her clouded thoughts. "You'll die," he said fiercely. "The Lady of the Phoenix _can _die. There are rituals you must perform, Unbreakable Vows that you must swear to. You have to go back – tell the gods to choose some other witch to be damned."

"You don't understand!" she said whirling around in a flurry of white silk. "There is no other! What duties that I must bear upon my shoulders only I alone know of in detail. There is no way to transfer this knowledge once a mortal has been _blessed_ with it. Even assuming that it was possible, there is no way I would condemn another to a future like mine."

The stark reality of her words hit the four with a wave of cold fear and apprehension. What she said was true, her duties were truly hers alone. Perhaps they would really never learn of the depth of their meaning. For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger had a problem, a job that only she could accomplish, but was absolutely terrified of and didn't know what to do.

"I have to go," she said tightly.

"Go where?" demanded Draco, rising quickly. "You may think that you're good at hiding things, but we all know that you're dead on your feet. If you perform any more magic, then we may as well take that expression literally."

"To Hogwarts," she continued, ignoring her boyfriend's comments. "I have to be somewhere that is home to me. I need time to sort this all out and plan out my next step."

"_Petrificus Totalus_," said the blonde young man quickly.

She turned her head slightly in surprise, unconsciously maneuvering her open palm in the path of the jet of light. Calling up an almost inadequate amount of magic from the flickering flame at her center, Hermione felt the unfriendly rush of exhaustion double as the magic sustaining her consciousness slipped. A split second later, the shimmering white aura of her magic enveloped the spell, holding it for a second, before receding back into her skin.

Harry immediately jumped upon the Slytherin with unnatural force. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" he spat venomously. "Are you trying to get her killed?"

The brunette witch sank back down on the bed, the argument between her oldest friend and her past enemy raged on. Their voices rang in her ears, oddly distorted as if muffled by a strange apparatus that altered their tone and frequency. Words became fuzzy, indistinct murmurs that unsteadily rose and fell in pitch. Shaking her head desperately to clear away the cobweb-like veil that clouded her mind, Hermione clutched at her staff with only one coherent thought.

"_Hogwarts…_"

Suddenly, what had been in indistinct world of jumbled words became a brutal swirling vortex of white light. The flickering light of her magical core seemed to have been nearly put out by a gust of cold wind that permeated every fiber of her being. The exhilarating rush of pure magic that ran within her veins to her open palm had morphed into one of pure terror and consumption.

As the white tunnel faded from her blurring vision and a patch of emerald green grass began rushing towards her at an alarming rate, she dumbly wondered where in Merlin name there would still be grass so green in October…

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

Perched on an unoccupied bed, Ron glanced uncomfortably at the small closed-off area where his two best friends were facing off with Draco before switching his gaze to his sister's concerned face. "What?" he snapped, running a hand through his hair.

"You're somewhere else," she commented needlessly.

"Of course not, I'm right here aren't I?" he said, waving his large hands to indicate the sterile and cheerless walls of St. Mungoes.

"Your mind, Ron," she retorted with equal annoyance. "You're never at a loss for words and you barely even paid attention to the twenty some chances you had to jab at Draco for some reason or another."

"Maybe I was trying to be considerate of Hermione's feelings!" the Chudley Cannons Keeper shot back crossly.

Ginny snorted and crossed her arms with a challenging air. "Really?" she asked, raising a coppery eyebrow. "I wasn't aware that you had – oh, what was it again? – anything beyond the 'emotion depth of a teaspoon.'"

A dark expression flitted almost resentfully across his long features. "Whoever said that I haven't changed since our school years?" he asked sullenly. "It's always 'Ron, you're so silly' and 'Don't be so insensitive, Ron.'"

"You're thinking of someone, aren't you?" Ginny cut in, her eyes wide with no small amount of surprise.

"'Course not," he snorted, trying to dissuade himself as well. "There's no time for that nowadays with a manic Dark Lord running around, now is there?"

"And I'm going to become the next Rita Skeeter," she said airily with a wave of her hand. "There's only one reason why you're so touchy about this whole insensitivity thing. You're interested in someone and you don't want to muddle it up like you did with Lavender and whatever air-headed fools you've gone out with."

"I'm. Not. In. Love." He said slowly, clenching his teeth in suppressed annoyance.

"I never said that you were in love," she pressed on, not minding the interestingly bright shade of red that had begun highlight the tops of his ears. "Who is it Ron? You haven't been with someone since we graduated – I think it's time you spent some time for yourself. Merlin knows you could use something other than Quidditch and Order missions."

"Leave well enough alone, alright?" he snapped irritably. "I am not some hormonally challenged bloke who goes chasing after random girls at the worst possible times."

"Well, you're doing pretty well chasing her with that mind – "

"Stop it!" Ron snarled, drowning out any further comments. "It's Katelyn Bellezza, happy? Now you can tell me about how I'm such a prat to be preoccupied with a girl that doesn't know I exist. Go on – we don't have all day!"

"I never–"

"Oh. Right, I forgot that you thought I was already a prat, didn't I?" he continued, his voice growing angrier by the second. "Let's all laugh, shall we, because Ronald Weasley is officially a git who ignores his friends when they need him the most. He thinks only about some random witch that's entirely bewitched him into dreaming of her night and day."

"Well I don't _bloody_ care! I'm doing my best, but that's never enough. In the end, I'm just the wizard who just falls short of the goal," he ranted, rising to his feet and pointedly ignoring Ginny's increasingly worried expression. "She'll get bored of me, and you'll all remind me how you warned me, how you all said it was a bad idea. THIS WILL WORK – AND I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANYTHING FROM-"

Suddenly, the door to the small ward was hurriedly pushed open and two harried wizards burst in, wands raised. Ron, cut off from delivering the rest of his tirade, turned towards them with a confused expression. "What's wrong?" he asked, his anger forgotten and pushed away.

"Something's set off the wards around this area – someone's left but they didn't Apparate or Portkey out," panted the lead wizard. "They spent a good amount of power doing it too – our Detectors are completely fried. Did you two see anything?"

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Ron, crossing the small space between the bed he and Ginny had been using and the sectioned-off area where Hermione was supposed to be.

Yanking back the curtains, his mind unconsciously registered the sudden lack of warding. The light blue material quavered under the force he exerted parted to reveal an unoccupied bed. There was no trace of Hermione, Draco, or Harry.

From behind him, Ron could sense his sister's presence.

"Bloody hell indeed."

"Merlin's Beard!" groaned Harry, rolling over on the soft ground. "That hurt! Could you at least give a bloke a second's warning before teleporting him off somewhere?"

Letting his magically corrected eyes refocus, the young man managed to lever himself up on an elbow to examine his body. A few patches of green stains decorated his robe sleeves, and his shin felt as if it had been struck by one of Hagrid's infamous rock cakes, but he was fine.

Turning his attention to his surroundings, he noted that Draco had copied his actions and had been more fortunate than him. The other wizard had managed to land on the sandy strip of land that bordered the lake, narrowly avoiding actually falling into the water while also having the advantage of a cushioned fall.

Swiveling his head around, he scanned the lush green landscape before his dark green eyes lighted upon an unmoving figure. At the same moment, he noticed the blonde-haired young man turn his attention towards the same thing.

Then, for the first time in their two decades of life, the two arch-enemies had the same thought about the other be plastered across their faces and come out of their mouths at the same exact moment.

"Bloody hell, he's going to kill me!"

**Author's Note**

_I am once again sorry for the inordinate amount of time I spent writing this chapter. I have the Chapter (Regional) MATHCOUNTS competition this Saturday at Toms River, and even as I write I have to leave to usher for a Chinese New Year program at Cherry Hill West High School._

_Sadly, I must also say that future chapters will likely take this long to write. Even if I don't make it among the top ten at the MATHCOUNTS competition to go to the State Competition, I have something else coming up. On Thursday, the rehearsals for Moorestown Children's Theater start and as a member of the pit orchestra, I have to attend meetings two times a week on top of more mandatory MATHCOUNTS meetings._

_Life is cruel, truly. When I began to write this Fanfiction, I wanted to make my updates weekly and reliable. I'm sorry, truly sorry, to see this vision pass by. I simply don't have enough time to balance writing into a daily schedule. I would love to, but it's just not possible._

_Besides, in the month that I have been inactive, I am very nearly ashamed to report that no reviews decided to trickle in past the meager four I received. No more were submitted past January 7th, which was precisely twenty-five days ago._

_On a side note, I turned fourteen yesterday at around 8:10 a.m. on January 30, 2006. _

_Please, give me some initiative to write more and clear some room in my schedule for Fanfiction. And perhaps, you can make it a steady initiative, not something that comes and goes as fleetingly as the wind._

_Thank you to those who found reviewing to be worth their precious time._

_Eowyn89 – Unexpected? Maybe, but remember Harry has a part in her legacy as well. Notice that she addressed him as 'my liege' meaning my king. Thanks for the comment of my amazing talents. :laughs: I seriously doubt my Fanfiction was that great, but its wonderful to hear from you nevertheless. Trust Draco? Trust is earned, and Draco has not earned it yet in Harry's eyes. We shall see what happens…_

_autumnxrain – More Draco? For this chapter its mostly talk and Draco is uncomfortable around the extended 'Golden Trio'. That you have to keep in mind. The H/Hr part? No, they're just close friends and have been for nearly a decade but they'll never be anything more. Harry/Hermione is one of my favorite ships, but the D/Hr will become a turning point. Soon…_

_dancrchick – Thanks and sorry about the month-long lapse in updates._

_gAITTAbella – Thanks and sadly, Harry does not always trust Hermione. In this Fanfiction, he's a bit less trusting. Wouldn't you be? It's been three years since they've graduated. Think or what he went through and school and imagine what he's been through as an _adult_. The reaction is here, so have a blast!_


	24. Chapter 23: Choosing Pathways

Glancing up quickly, he automatically assessed the situation, placing Draco to be about three hundred meters away from him while he had landed a slightly closer two hundred fifty away from Hermione's unmoving figure. Cursing softly to himself in a string of sibilant Parseltongue, Harry clambered rather ungracefully to his feet. Brushing away the ever-present stray locks of hair that obscured his vision, the young man winced as he applied pressure to his leg.

Looking down he was only mildly surprised to see that the black material of his slacks had been shredded sometime during their journey. A quick _Scourgify_ only served to leave the useless fabric hanging even more listlessly than before. Sighing mentally, Harry gave up the household cleaning charm as a lost cause and refocused his thoughts.

His brilliant green eyes flickered over to Draco's landing site and he was partially relieved but apprehensive to see that the blonde wizard had also finished taking inventory of his wounds.

Lifting an arm to wipe the sweat that had beaded upon his forehead, Harry jogged the distance to the crumpled figure with thoughts of sickening worry plaguing his mind. From afar, he had simply seen a mass of brown hair and shimmering white fabric, but as the distance between him and Hermione had decreased, his horror had increased.

"Get over here, Malfoy!" he called unnecessarily, seeing that the Slytherin was already sprinting in their direction.

Dropping to his knees, he felt a surge of sickly bile surface in his throat as he tried not to call out in horror. The young woman was deathly pale – whiter than she had been after returning from the realms – and lay motionlessly upon the ground with one leg twisted at an odd angle. For one heart-stopping moment he thought her to be dead from magical exhaustion.

"Merlin, don't let it be so," he murmured frantically, unconsciously sending out a prayer to the wizard as he fumbled with shaky hands trying to locate her pulse.

"Merlin doesn't give a damn if the gods were the ones that forced this onto her, Potter," came an angry from behind. Draco had approached a lot faster than he'd expected.

Growling in frustration, he motioned with his free hand for silence and finally located the small throbbing area on Hermione's wrist. He'd never had much more than a crash course in field medical knowledge, but the faint, weak pulse ignited more than a couple alarm bells in his mind.

Closing his eyes, Harry rocked back on his heels and carefully lowered his mental barriers to call upon his raw magic. As soon as the familiar heady rush of power flowed freely, he slammed the shield back up and reached out with tentative fingers into the air around him.

There – there! A tingling, almost electrifying shock ran up his fingertips and the raven-haired wizard opened his eyes and nearly severed the unsure connection with his magic in shock.

"_Dear Merlin, it's beautiful, but so complex… And I'm supposed to inherently know what threads to pick and weave?"_ he thought incredulously.

The sight truly was astounding, as if he were viewing the world through a different lens far more capable than the human eye. The very air around him was heavily layered with a complex web of magic, each strand glimmering in various hues of brilliant colors.

At first, he had been too dubious to actually make an attempt at wandless magic, but now he could absorb her descriptions of this beautiful tapestry without any lingering skeptism. Runes were embossed in a pure white magic, lining the objects and areas they had been created and empowered to protect. Every magical being had gained their own unique color, similar to their aura and core.

/-_You're projecting, Potter!_-/ sounded a rather rushed and angry voice. /-_We don't have time. Finish what you're doing, and if Hermione isn't helped soon, I'm not going to be responsible for my actions._-/

Clamping down on his desire to keep gaping, and to fire back a retort, the young man concentrated on the glittering threads of magic. "_Right then,_" he thought carefully. "_Gold is for healing_ – he reached out his finger and grasped the thread, pleasantly surprised to see that it came with no resistance – _blue is for longevity_ – another strand fell into his hand – _and green for new life from pain."_

Slowly, he felt as if his fingers were moving under their own accord, weaving the three strands of raw magic into a complex Celtic knot. Finally, when the three ends were joined together, the new spell seemed to be washed over with a brilliant hue of green.

Then, as quickly as he had called upon the power to fuel the spell, it was gone in a burst of indistinguishably colored light. Instantly, the disruption caused Harry to lose his focused attention and the small amount of power that allowed him the See quickly dissipated.

Opening his eye one crack, he saw Draco casting various diagnostics over Hermione and was pleased to note that there was still a lingering glow of emerald green around various areas of her body.

Knowing that the other wizard would probably be more likely to declare his undying love for a mundane Muggle than harm the witch he was tending to, Harry swept a quick glance around at his now-normal surroundings. They had obviously landed near the middle section of the Great Lake, and the Hogwarts castle could be seen in the distance about a kilometer away.

However, he was beginning to get a feeling that their undisturbed area would be soon occupied by students. A quick glance at his watch showed that it was around noontime, and from the looks of the charmed environment, many students would be outside to enjoy a spring-time atmosphere in the autumn.

"Testing new abilities already?" drawled the blonde. "I don't know what you did, but she's improving."

"Wandless magic and a bit of random tweaking on some basic concepts," the wizard replied vaguely. "Hermione slipped me a copy of her work journal disguised as a genealogy book and I've been studying. Never tried to actually use it until today…"

The blonde young man was silent for a moment, and Harry eyes him nervously. His tenseness that instinctively rose when he was in the presence of his school-boy arch nemesis had never learned to die down. After a long, pregnant pause the Slytherin cleared his throat uncomfortably as if trying to say something difficult.

"Why did – Why do you use _that_ kind?" he asked with some difficulty.

"And what kind would _that_ be?" the raven-haired wizard asked, confusion written across his face.

"_That!_" Draco tried again. "Why do you – well – weave threads and whatnot?"

"Oh," he responded intelligently. "That's what Hermione's journal documented, so that's what I've been practicing. Do you mean there are other methods?"

"Exactly, Potter," he said in a frustrated tone. "That's exactly it! She gave me a copy of her 'journal' too, but it didn't have a single word regarding _thread_."

"Maybe she forgot?" he said hopefully, although a forming idea made him feel quite adamant that she had not made such a glaring error.

"Damn her!" Draco exploded suddenly. "Everything has to be a secret! Everyone can't just hear the whole plan. Only she knows what she's doing, and Merlin forbid should she let anyone else in on a secret that has more than a little to do with _their_ lives!"

Harry regarded the furious young man with a surprisingly calm eye. True – Hermione had resorted to a rather Slytherin tactic to keep such large portions of research apart, but he couldn't bring himself to feel the betrayal Draco seemed to be experiencing. "She has her own plans," he said simply.

"Yes, plans that involve _us_!" he practically snarled. "Doesn't that bother you in the slightest? The journal she gave me only spoke of reaching for your innate power and channeling it with your sheer force of will – it has nothing to do with the oh-so-magical sight of interlocking magic your mind was shouting about."

"Why don't you just trust her, Malfoy?" he retorted, feeling his temper rise quickly. "That's what relationships are built on, and by Morgana, if you can't give her that then all you've got is a trashy _fling_."

"Watch your mouth, you scar-headed fool!" he shot back. "I trust her, but this is going too far. She's meddling and she's lying, for Merlin's sake! She's supposed to be the Gryffindor role-model, not some conniving little Sly-"

"Oh dear," said the Boy-Who-Lived with a growing smile, feeling his temper receding faster than it had erupted. "A conniving little Slytherin? How unjust! How terrible!"

Draco mumbled something unintelligible and the dark-haired wizard quickly let the point drop while he stewed over the new revelations.

"_Mobilicorpus!_" incanted Draco, rising to his feet, his face set in staunch determination to let the argument die quickly.

Harry followed suit and cast a worried glance at his best friend's unconscious form, his anxiety returning as the anger surge had worn off. "I suppose we can try to give her a second dose of the _Blood of Three_ potion…" he suggested.

The wizard in question raised an eyebrow, obviously annoyed about something of another. It probably had something to do with Harry – it definitely something about Hermione's current state. "If it worked once, I suppose it won't hurt," he allowed grudgingly before muttering something so that it would be easier to administer the potion.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he fished around in his pocket before coming up with the two-thirds full vial. Uncapping it, he poured a small amount into her mouth, past slightly parted lips. The effect was immediate, and clearly visible even without the Sight to visually break down magic.

An ice-like fire enveloped her body, and quickly fled upon contact. Harry frowned at first, but slowly in the back of his mind he could feel his magical core's senses detect a significant power level increase in Hermione.

As soon as he was about to voice his thoughts, the young woman's eyes fluttered open. Then, in a true Hermione-like fashion, she proceeded to automatically dispel the enchantment levitating her in the air.

"What in Merlin's name did you do that for?" growled Draco, as the brunette under his icy gaze landed softly on the grass.

"Force of habit," she said tiredly. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry in the presence of her quick recovery. When the Slytherin Prince began to open his mouth once more for another sharp retort, the Boy-Who-Lived quickly decided to opt for silence.

"Do you enjoy falling through nothing but air?" he demanded, helping her up to her feet. "Gods above, you could have hurt yourself _again!_"

"Of course not," she snapped, pain and exhaustion giving her fangs. "And who's to say that I haven't already hurt myself because of you _two_ – she pointed at both wizards – insisting on bickering like little children?"

He winced inwardly, feeling as if she had heard the argument they had briefly quelled, but knowing she was referring to their verbal dispute that had indirectly landed them at Hogwarts. Testing the leg Harry had distinctly remembered to be broken, Hermione winced in obvious pain. Leaning on Draco's arm, she turned to face the Gryffindor who felt like shirking from his duties and running away. Merlin only knew why he was scared of his best friend when she was nearly dead on her feet.

"And _you_!" she muttered. "You absolutely _insist_ on treating me like a fragile glass vessel. I will _not_ die if someone casts a random schoolboy charm at me. I _know_ better!"

"Then would you let me Levitate you until we reach the castle?"

"Of course not!" she snapped. "I'm perfectly capable to going by foot. It's only a few kilometers at most!"

"Just enough to hurt yourself badly," interrupted the Slytherin with a tint of worry in his voice. "Come on-"

"NO!" she hissed. "What did you not understand about what I said before? I am _perfectly_ capable – I am not an invalid! You–"

Suddenly, she stopped, as if totally drained and closed her eyes. "James' blood," she said quietly with a deep breath, as if trying to compose herself.

"What does your tirade have to do with Potter's father?" snapped Draco, obviously irritable about the whole situation. "Can we all just concentrate for a moment and focus on getting into the castle before we're mobbed by curious students and meddling Professors?"

"The first of the _Three Bloods_ to react was Remus' and it gave me physical regeneration easily, but the magic that it replenished cost a lot of the energy it had given," she explained, opening her eyes again. "James' has run its course, giving me significant amounts of magical energy back but also imbuing testiness, impatience, and an abnormally short temper."

"And there she goes," mutter Harry, rolling his eyes.

Hermione shot a particularly nasty look, and the Boy-Who-Lived held up his hands. "Sorry, sorry," he said quickly.

"If she weren't mine, I'd say you were whipped, Potter," drawled Draco with a trademark smirk.

Too tired and quite frankly, too irritated, the raven-haired wizard just scowled and let Hermione sling her arm over his shoulders. "Let's just get to the castle," he muttered.

"Come on now, whinging doesn't become you," taunted the blonde.

"And I could say the same for you," he retorted heavily as they trudged towards Hogwarts with Hermione limping between them.

"As-"

"Stop!" growled the young woman. "Stop! Just bloody stop your bickering! It's like we're in school again with you two constantly at each others' throats!"

Exchanging another masked glare with the Slytherin, Harry let a small sigh of defeat. "Whatever," he mumbled.

Casting a glance to his side, he saw Draco mutter his assent and Hermione's apparent dissatisfaction. "Can't you-," she began.

"The castle, Hermione," he reminded her none-too gently.

"Right," she huffed, obviously not happy with their "truce" but not being in the position to argue.

So the three settled for silence, each internally stewing over one thought or another, and doing their best to reach the castle in the short time span of ten minutes. Draco could do nothing but think of the mystery that surrounded the young woman who had so suddenly reappeared in his life while Harry thought of everything but her. Hermione however was not thinking, as she merely was planning the next step towards uncovering the secrets she felt so trapped by.

**St. Mungo's**

The two Weasley's exchanged a quick glance and were sprinting after the two men immediately, only stopping to snag their cloaks from the wooden peg by the door. Ginny fumbled with the gold clasp on hers, her fingers almost trembling too hard to actually hook the delicate piece.

"Come on, Gin," came Ron's voice from slightly in front of her.

She looked up from the clasp, muttering a quick Sticking Charm that would serve as an adequate replacement. The time she had spent focusing on the intricate bit had allowed her brother to take a significant lead. The fact that he was a Quidditch player and had longer legs didn't do anything to calm her nerves.

"Coming, coming," she muttered, sprinting with an extra burst of speed as she sent a quick prayer to the gods that her cloak wouldn't come undone.

"Focus, Gin!" came her brother's voice once more.

Good – it was closer now. Quickly, she glanced down at the phoenix-shaped clasp and she smiled triumphantly as the left wing finally managed to catch on the gold bit attached to the opposite fold of her cloak.

"Not now, Gin!" It was that blasted nickname again, but at least she could sense his voice right next to her.

A strong callused hand roughly grabbed her hand, and before she could voice a complaint, she could feel the dreadfully familiar sensation of being compressed. The Side-Along-Apparition has been slightly forced, and the red-headed young woman briefly felt the iron band of pressure crushing her torso – something she hadn't felt since her first lesson in Apparition years ago.

The whirlwind of flustered thoughts soon came to an abrupt halt, and Ron released her hand. Silently cursing herself for having been so easily distracted, Ginny stumbled slightly as the extra push of power the young man had placed in his Apparition proved to be more than needed.

"Warn me the next time you decide to Apparate, alright?" she muttered angrily, adjusting the creamy white sweater that had ridden up as she was sprinting down the corridor moments before. "Your Side-Along-Apparition skills leave something to be desired."

Looking around, she was surprised to see that they were at the Burrow without a trace of the two Aurors they had been following. "Why are we home?" she asked, gnawing at her bottom lip in thought. "Weren't we going to find out exactly where and how three people vanished from a heavily-warded wing?"

Ron snorted in a child-like fashion – a habit she swore he'd never grow out of. "'Course not," he said nonchalantly, grabbing a hot chocolate chip cookie off a platter as he headed towards the living room. "We're checking up on our Tracers – remember we got Harry to consent to one last Christmas as long as he got to place some wards around the base equipment?"

Snagging a cookie, she automatically Conjured up two napkins, handing one to her messy brother. Approaching the empty space to the side of a squashy sofa, Ginny quickly waved her wand in a complex fashion, leaving a pale blue trace of her magical signature lingering in the air.

Harry had made the Weasleys memorize the runic pattern, teaching them to imbue their will into the magic. At first they hadn't realized it, but the different trails of colored magic were specific to each person, brought out by their closeness to his wards. If anyone not sanctioned to view the equipment, or unwilling to, would be ejected out of the Burrow – _forcefully_.

However, the trailing glimmers of blue magical essence failed to mesmerize Ginny like it usually did, instead she willed it to hurry and dispel the ward, eying the runic pattern with shabbily disguised impatience.

As if the runes could sense her obvious discontent, the blue shimmering letters faded away, and as if a veil were being dropped, the backdrop of the area fell away to reveal various silver instruments.

Ron stepped forward first, and bent down to examine the smallest piece of equipment there, shaped somewhat like a Pensieve. Drawing his wand, he made a jerking motion above its glass-like surface as if pulling a rope.

"Locate," he muttered, ending the wand motion in a smooth wave.

Ginny crouched down behind him, absently breaking off a chunk of the chocolate cookie, not noticing as the gooey sweet was pulled out in a string before sagging down to form a brown sticky line on her hand.

Slowly, but surely, the ghost-like image of Harry flitted across the surface of the tracking device, showing him walking with Hermione being supported next to him and Draco. Glancing down at the side of the instrument, Ginny drew in a sharp breath at what she saw seemingly engraved in the slot "Location."

"Ron," she whispered, prodding her brother. "Look!"

The redheaded Keeper raised an eyebrow and glanced briefly at what she was pointing at. Then he swore loudly, successfully making Ginny fall back a little from the sheer volume of his voice.

"Keep it down, Ronald," she scolded fiercely. "Mum will hear, and if she sees this, Harry will never be able to leave her sight!"

The Weasley matriarch had become increasingly overprotective as the war raged on, involving more and more battles and casualties. The list of dead had claimed many close family friends and several distant relatives, but the deaths of Fabian and Gideon Prewett had never stopped haunting her mother's mind.

However, the mounting resistance against Voldemort had done little to dampen her fears that had been blatantly revealed during her encounter with a Boggart years ago. In fact, it had only served to heighten her anxiety, seeing as Harry, her unofficially adopted son, was at the front of the ranks along with Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George.

These few but strong facts could only lead to potential house-arrest for Harry and Hermione if Mrs. Weasley found out exactly where they were and how they had gotten there.

On the base of the silver tracking device, a small plaque with a small inscription reading had the dreadfully worrying words that gave Ginny a feeling of conflicted relief and apprehension.

_Companions: Hermione Granger (Injured) & Draco Malfoy (Healthy)_

_Health: Bruised but Overall in Good Health_

_Transportation: Unknown Branch of Risky Realm-Tearing_

_Location: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

Harry paused as they began to ascend the stone steps that led up to the doors of Hogwarts and the Great Hall that lay across the entrance hall behind them. The moment of rest allowed him to catch his breath and gave Hermione and Draco an equal chance to recuperate from the breakneck pace the brunette had insisted she was perfectly able to handle.

It hadn't taken too long for her injuries to come back with a new wave of discomfort and pain, but she had raised the subject of being discovered by students and he relented. Being discovered with a witch that was suspected to be dipping her fingers in shady organizations after a three year absence from the Wizarding World was bound to get rumors started. Being with an equally reclusive young man who was most famous for being the son of a known and at-large Death Eater would not help matters either.

Glancing at Hermione, he mentally berated himself for not disregarding her sheer stubbornness and Stunning her until they reached the castle. Not that she wouldn't have eventually dispelled the immobilizing jinx, but it would have served its purpose in not aggravating her injuries.

Dark circles highlighted the bottoms of her weary eyes, and she was moving with a serious limp, as if trying to spare her leg any further injury. Although her dress and staff had been repaired with some of the random bits of residual restoration the _Blood of Three_ potion performed, she looked as if she had barely escaped an ambush.

"I told you not to make things worse," he couldn't resist mumbling.

She shot him a rather glaring look and the Boy-Who-Lived shrugged and let the topic fall once more. When Hermione Granger was feeling testy, he would be the last one to be asking for a storm of emotions being hurled upon him. Ron had originally been that target, but that practice finally left him with enough frightening experiences to imprint some type of instinct to steer clear of the opposite gender while they had their emotional outbursts.

"Let's go," urged Draco, with no small amount of anxiety. "As amusing as it seems to watch you two bicker without words, I would prefer keeping my low-profile status consistent."

With a sigh, Harry shrugged. "We won't be walking much longer – if we're lucky, the students will still be eating lunch and we can slip in through a side door to the Hospital Wing," he said, resuming his walk.

The suggested side door soon appeared as Hogwarts recognized the aura of one of its more beloved students. However, it seemed to be planning something else as a few tries and _Alohomora_ spells failed to wrench the rusty door open.

"Just our luck," muttered Draco irritably. "We might as well have asked for a stone to bash our heads against. We'll have to go through past the Great Hall and hope that no students are in there."

Muttering angrily in French, the blonde rested his hand on the great bronze handle that would spell either disaster and chaos or safety and refuge. Harry looked at him curiously, having never heard Draco speak in French before. It was rather obvious that it came from having a mother with a French background, but he was nonetheless rather surprised. Perhaps it had to do with perception – Rowena often chided him about not properly assessing things.

"Go on," he said with a shrug, too weary to ponder the myriad of consequences any longer. "Disillusionment Charms and concealment spells haven't been working around here since Hogwarts strengthened her wards."

Cautiously, the three entered, with Hermione hobbling a bit in front, insisting that her staff would suit her well enough so they could make the trip to the Hospital Wing. However, whatever possible scenarios Harry had played through his mind during their trip was immediately brought crashing down when they fully entered the building.

His first warning alarm was the hollow clattering of the glittering white staff that had bathed their pathway in a soft white light – the normally focused beam shining in various crazy angles. The second came almost instantaneously afterwards, marked by a moan of horror and Hermione falling to her knees.

Draco was the first to react, and Harry watched dumbly as the Slytherin paused as soon as he reached the brunette, his eyes wide in disbelief. Fear and apprehension pounded through his mind, sending adrenaline through his system as he unconsciously prepared for an unseen enemy.

A quick flick of his wrist sent his wand smoothly into his open hand. Although the warm holly wood felt comfortable in his hand, he advanced with a distinct feeling that he was totally unprepared. Time seemed to slow as he stepped forward, crouching down quickly to kneel by Draco even before his echoed footfalls stopped.

However, as his bright emerald eyes flicked upwards a millisecond later, he found that the battle ahead was not one he could fight with a wand or any type of magic. His breath hitched painfully, and his mind, already overloaded with anxiety, became a whirlwind of unidentifiable emotions.

In front of them, was a small gathering of the Hogwarts faculty, dressed entirely in black with Professor McGonagall in the lead looking tired and drained of life. However, the sight of the usually stoic Transfiguration professor was not what shocked and numbed his heart the most. Behind her was a small floating platform that made his heart plummet and his breathing uneven.

It was lined with small snowdrop flowers that looked as if they were wilting with depression, and a lump could be distinguished under the fabric covering. A fabric Harry found eerily familiar, and also one he had never wished to see in such a situation.

It was bright purple with golden stars twinkling about the surface.

Then, in an instant, the sight became glaringly clear and his fear only tightened further. It was _that_ sight – the one that had plagued his dreams in so many shapes and forms that they seemed to blur into the one right before him. Falling backwards, Harry could hear only his own harsh breathing as his heart thumped erratically, rising and falling in a jittery pattern. It couldn't be what he thought!

But it was, for as soon as he had truly expressed the denial of the truth within his mind, he heard the dreaded word surface among the sea of black. The word carried weakly, for the voice was quavering with tears, but it carried nonetheless. _Dumbledore_.

His mentor and the most powerful wizard that had been alive for so many years that he seemed to be a permanent fixture in their society was the one lying there, covered in the fabric that mocked their sadness with their twinkling lights. He desperately tried to block it all out – it just couldn't be true.

However, his fierce clamp down on his emotions was almost immediately followed by a voice so imbued with terror, fierce anger, and determination that he nearly recoiled from its depth.

"_No!"_

In an instant, he was literally knocked back into the stone wall by a ripple of pure, unrestrained magic. Glancing quickly to the side, he saw Draco struggling to stand back up to no avail. Another quick look confirmed the strangest situation he had never thought would come to pass.

In his last year of Hogwarts, it had been a common occurrence for him to lash out magically and mentally in frustration. Due to the extreme death toll of the mounting war and his inability to strike out, his volatile emotions were prone to unleashing his magical energies and converting them into a terrible destructive power.

It had been Flitwick's idea to establish a connection between his magic and Hogwarts to ensure that she could protect him and the surrounding students during a time of need. As he gradually learned to leash his emotions properly and channel his magic appropriately, the link had faded away.

Until the present, Harry had thought the link to be entirely nonexistent. However, now he could feel the brunt of Hogwarts' primal fear and need to hurry.

Hermione was now sprawled on the stone floor, his arms stretched out and pulsating with a deep gold color. Upon her face was an almost feral look of pain mixed with emotional agony as she channeled the burning hot energy through her open palms to form a huge beam.

It was a strangely familiar sight, but the Boy-Who-Lived had never seen it as a third party, having always been the person performing the supposedly impossible act of uncontrolled unleashing of magic. But still, the same queer prickling energy ran up his spine as her aura expanded to the far walls of the entrance hall.

The stone desperately shifted, but agonizingly slowly. Before the walls could close and isolate Hermione as they had done for Harry years ago, the golden beam blasted forward directly at Dumbledore's covered body.

The brilliant stream of directed, but uncontrolled and unleashed magic flew from Hermione's fingertips, obliterating anything in its path, but Harry knew that the magic would not do the same to Dumbledore. In fact, it would do the very opposite and that idea brought pure terror to him.

She was giving up the magic so complexly linked to her life force to bring back a man who could not be brought back. Hermione was trying the impossible – to raise the dead.

With that thought, he suddenly could feel no more as the world went black.

**Author's Notes**

_Aha! An extra long chapter, despite the lack of reviews for the last one – aren't you all so proud? Especially with me having to go to Honors Orchestra from 9:30 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. and taking the Science GEPA Test beforehand as well! I must say that I'm proud of this chapter, even though it took so long to write and really serves only as a filler chapter. The next is full of action and the plot will be speeding ahead to its – planned – ending sometime in the summer._

_I won't bore anyone with a listing of my schedule, but my days a bit less hectic now that MATHCOUNTS is over, but I still have some things to focus in on, so hopefully I'll be able to update more often._

_I'm keeping this short, but remember to review! The more reviews I get, the less grumpy I get about being unappreciated and the more eager I get to write another chapter. Recommend me, list me as your favorite, or even promote me – you can do whatever you want, but I'm in dire need of someone telling me that my time isn't being wasted._

_Also, as a look forward, I've realized that a lot of Draco/Hermione fanfictions aren't really read, so I've already started planning a really cool new fanfiction that is slated for release as soon as this is done. If my reviews dry up for this one, I will simply finish up _Consequential Revenge _and start that one. _

_autumnxrain – This is the climax of the buildup, and it's just a whirlwind of action from here on out._

_Eowyn89 – Hermione has a lot, but so does Harry. I've tried to stress it a lot, but maybe I'll just say it in plain terms. Harry is going to be fighting Voldemort in the Final Battle and not Hermione. Her role is very important, but not anything anyone has come up with yet, I think, so hopefully my ending will be memorable and original. About the Moons – they are slated for a few chapters in the distance, so that may be a while considering my schedule._

_gAITTABella – It's not a coming figure, as you see here. It was just a figure in the grass – in fact, they weren't even moving. _

_snow-angel222 – You're getting lost? Just email me with questions – I'm pretty sure I was clear. The Lady of the Phoenix is just a title that the Founders bestow upon certain witches throughout the ages. They do not fight the Dark Lord (Since Harry is doing that and he's obviously not a Lady) but instead they always must find their destiny in the fight against Dark. Their greatest challenge is to figure out what they must do before it's too late. Ginny sort of explains it in terms of some legends she's read._

_fishertowers – An interesting screenname, but nevertheless, the squirrel is coming in one or two chapters and I've update now, haven't I?_


	25. Chapter 24: Fading Sisters

_The stench of death and suffering was heavy in the air, nearly choking her with a wave of intense horror. All around her lay bodies of the dead, their eyes glazed over with death and their faces frozen in varying degrees of tortured pain. Still, the vibrant green and sickly red of the Unforgivable Curses flew from all directions, signifying the seemingly unaffected army of the Dark Lord._

"_No, no, no, no," she murmured, her eyes betraying her and letting several crystalline tears slide down her cheeks._

_There had been assassinations involved in her spying, and even some cold-hearted interrogation tactics, but nothing like this. Even the massacre of the Light forces at the Battle of Wales, the only full-scale fight other than this that she had been fighting in, was hardly a preparation for this._

_Stumbling over the bodies that her fearful eyes recognized to be former classmates and even several colleagues, the young woman flung herself into the heat of battle, firing random spells at her opponents. _

_She was blind to the exact identities of the ones she hit with her spells, only seeing their mockingly white masks jumping out at her. But there was no desire to fight them right now, only the burning, consuming need to leave the sickening carnage behind her._

_Broken fragments of what seemed to have been glorious statues littered the spacious entrance hall, several lifeless Aurors in their blood-stained robes lay on top of them. The bitter thought that these had been the first lives to be claimed brought more tears to her eyes. She could handle stealth, but the massive battle that had broken out just an hour ago had brought more than she would ever be ready for. Merlin only knew how Harry could keep going along without faltering._

_Practically flinging herself outside, the witch toppled haphazardly into a snow bank, her numerous disregarded wounds staining the pure white blanket a vivid crimson._

_She was weak, suffered personally as each of their fighters fell under the Dark Lord's army, and for this she could feel the familiar feeling of hate welling up in her heart. Uncalled, however, fiery balls of the white-hot destructive element formed just a few centimeters above her hands. _

_Even though she could not stand among the heroes of the battle, she knew there was one way, one choice she would have to make. Ginny could easily block out the contorted atmosphere of death as she gathered those in need of Healing, and Harry was a beacon of angry emerald magic, leading the Light to clash with the Dark in a battle that would determine the fate of the world._

_She had been next to him, a banner for all to see, but with every new casualty her mind had become overloaded, even with the little powers of Empathy she had just come to train. The voices of those closest to her now rang mockingly in her ears._

"…_emblem of the Light…"_

"…_motivator of the weak, uniter of the strong, and the epitome of sacrifice of the greater good."_

"…_you're not ready…"_

_Her own words rang in her ears as well, the empty declarations seeming to come back and leer. She had failed them all – she had failed herself. But there was once last chance, one last chance to prove her worth…_

_Weak from blood loss, she struggled to pull herself upright, but the snow was too soft to support her. A bloody gash ran along the side of her clothing, the original style and color totally unrecognizable, preventing most movement in her upper torso. The fire that had flared up with her temper slowly dissolved now, leaving her exposed to the biting winds that nipped harshly at her open wounds._

_A string of fluid words and syllables escaped her mouth, but she was cut off by a wave of intense agony far worse than the pain she had managed to ignore so far. She tried to breathe, but each breath brought hot beams torture shooting through her body. _

_She weakly shifted her damaged body up, crying out silently, as she could say nothing, as she was assaulted by another ripple of consuming pain. Staring down at the origin of her tormentor, the young woman saw the black handle of a dagger protruding from her body, the fabric around the wound quickly darkening with blood._

"_So we meet again," she managed force in a crackly voice._

_Before the stranger could reply, the witch let out a strangled cough, watching with pain-hazed eyes as blood splattered across her hands. _

"_But I am ready now," she said again, ignoring the pain now. It had become one with her tortured body, melding in with the cacophony that clouded her mind. "Truly a shame that I am dying…"_

_Her breath hitched again as the wanton statement left her lips. Her own brass surprised her, even though Draco had always insisted she was as stubborn as an ill-tempered Aethonon. The words elicited a malicious smile from the figure, still standing there with a gloved hand upon yet another of his trademark black daggers._

"_But…" she broke off, coughing as the dagger forced more blood to spew out of her mouth. "I shall bring you with me."_

_The stranger stayed silent, his smile only widening. It was so easy to let go then, to just let the pain totally override her mind. But she owed it to Harry who had endured his legacy for so long, she owed it to Draco who had openly defied a path he had been groomed to follow, and she owed it to herself and the world for the things she had failed to do._

_A burst of gold energy surrounded her torn form. It illuminated the enveloping darkness, and brought the clothing she had been wearing to attention. It was torn, gashed, smeared with blood and dirt, but a distinctive color and outline shone through the grime. It was a phoenix – a phoenix against a white backdrop of cloth._

Hermione awoke with a start, cold sweat beading along her forehead. Every part of her body throbbed as if she had truly been through the terrifying ordeal that had just unfolded in front of her eyes. An involuntary shudder ran up her spine as the pieces clicked into place.

It had not been a dream, and unlike most of her visions, it had not come from the past. Before she could ponder the strange scene from the future – oddly enough, about what seemed to be her demise – a loud bang sounded out.

Jerking up, Hermione noticed that a young woman with tousled blonde hair had just rushed into the room that seemed to be the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. Behind her were several floating stretchers that settled themselves on top of several unoccupied beds as the Healer bustled about, frantically reaching for her wand and several potions at the same time.

Blinking several times, the witch realized that the anxious Healer was in fact Luna Lovegood, who was tending to several wounded wizards at once who were _definitely_ not Hogwarts students. Pushing aside the ghostly pains that wracked her body, she looked down to see that no one had bothered to change her out of the Phoenix garb.

A dark black curl suddenly emerged from behind her ear, and the young woman absent mindedly Conjured an elastic bit as she swept up her long hair into a tight ponytail. Then she realized that she had transformed into Katelyn Bellezza once again.

Because she was no Metamorphmagus who could consciously change her appearance at whim, the spirit that resided within her often was left with most of the decisions as to when to revert back and forth from identity to identity. When she herself needed to change her mindset and appearance, she would have to appeal to Katelyn's spirit.

A quick glance at the polished surface of the hospital bed's railing confirmed that Katelyn had found an opportune moment to change her appearance. Hermione mumbled in annoyance as she swept her hair up into a high ponytail, knowing full well that her appearance could have changed any time from when they entered the castle to the present. However, her thinking was once again disrupted once more by another bang. This time, it was Madam Pomfrey who rushed in bearing more stretchers than Luna had.

"Oh Merlin, Katelyn, you're up!" she breathed, all the while grabbing various ointments and remedies for the new arrivals. "We need you desperately! By Morgana, I've never seen so many…"

"What's going on, _signora_?" she asked sharply, automatically slipping into the guise of the dark-haired Defense teacher.

The elder Mediwitch's hands trembled slightly as she rapidly applied a thick paste to one man's burns, pausing only for a split second to regain her shaken composure. "Deatheaters have been attacking for the past fifteen minutes, and we're sorely outnumbered. The Order was luckily ready, but the Ministry Aurors are blocked off by some sort of diversion at Diagon Alley."

She paused for a moment in hesitation of facing battle when the memory of her vision flooded her mind. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she plastered a nonchalant smile upon her lips. "It's no problem," she said quietly with an underlying tone of sadness.

As the Defense against Dark Arts teacher practically flew out of the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey paused in her ministrations of Skele-Gro Potion, having finished with one Auror's burns.

"Albus certainly has a way of choosing some of the most puzzling characters for that position," she remarked out loud, corking the potion flask.

Luna smiled dreamily, waving her wand to close several gashes on another wizard's arm. They glowed silver for a moment, and then seemed to morph back together, leaving only faint red lines as a testament to the wizard's brave actions during battle.

"Not everything is as it seems to be," she replied, her voice distant.

The graying woman shook her head, as she muttered the _Ferula_ charm to assure that the man would not be able to disrupt the potion's process. "Still, a curious young woman," she reiterated. "A young heiress narrowly escapes death when so many more experienced fighters did not at the Battle of Wales, decides to devote her time to educating instead of ignoring or fighting in the war - a quite unnatural situation."

The former Ravenclaw smiled, her eyes misty as if in thought. "Whoever said anyone with a drop of magic in their blood is natural?" she asked.

Madam Pomfrey sighed, turning as if on cue to receive a new wave of Portkeyed fighters. "We may have to move to the Great Hall now," she said worriedly while performing a complex spell Dumbledore had designed to communicate wishes to Hogwarts herself.

The grey stone of the Hospital Wing shifted slightly, and the two Healers and their patients found themselves in a newly cleared Great Hall with a number of house elves scurrying around, setting up racks of medical potions and beds.

"We all move on to greater things," murmured Luna, mainly to herself.

A sudden gust of wind blew a set of glass-paned windows open, allowing the crisp autumn air into the warm confines of the Great Hall, blowing away Luna's last words. Her otherworldly eyes, focused for a moment before sliding back into their veiled façade.

"It is our destiny."

**Outside of Hogwarts**

"_Iugulo_," he shouted, ducking under several simultaneous beams of light.

The unfortunate cluster of dark-robed Death Eaters were impacted by the channel of blinding white light that engulfed their bodies in colorless fire. Harry quickly shut his ears to their cries, spinning around as a spell narrowly missed his back, singeing the edge of his cloak.

"_Avis!_" he incanted, sending the unorthodox conjuring spell towards his surrounding enemies, waving his wand in a wide arc.

The yellow twittering canaries were no more than a distraction as the jet-black haired young man dove for cover, somersaulting over a large boulder in one fluid motion.

"Bloody hell!" he gasped, muttering expletives in three languages as he tried to regulate his rapid breathing.

The battle had not broken out for long, but the dragonhide armor he had been so quick to don was already pressing heavily on his chest. Of course, being consistently lucky about these situations, he _had_ to have been in the middle of a mock duel with Draco that had been nearing the hour-long mark.

Muttering to himself, Harry hoisted himself up to rest against the temporary shelter, tearing off the hem of his crimson Auror cloak to bind a particularly nasty wound from a randomly fired _Diffindo_. Dipping in a leather gauntleted hand into lake, the wizard splashed the cold water onto his face, trying to clear the tired haze that clouded his mind.

A sudden whisper of cloth brought the emerald-eyed wizard to attention, drawing his wand in a lightning-fast move. Barely a millisecond later, he was facing the intruder with his wand resting lightly at the hollow of their neck. Inches above his focal point, Tonks' dirt-streaked face shone with obvious impatience.

"Merlin, Harry!" she exclaimed. "I need your help, not a random blasted curse that'll end my days decades too early! That's not your job, that's Voldemort's!"

He relaxed slightly, uncoiling his tense muscles with a wince. "I wasn't trying to kill you," he said with a touch of irritability.

The fiery witch glared at him pointedly nonetheless. "Here," she said finally. "We don't have much time, and I've yet to see Hermione anywhere. Only the gods know why half the Auror force isn't here yet. Are you sure you raised the alarm when we left?"

A flask of cloudy purple potion was uncorked as she spoke, and Harry noted that the side was labeled in unfamiliar handwriting. It seemed that Hogwarts had gotten a new source of potions, as the words _Invigorating Draught_ were obvious written by a left-handed person in the obvious mark of a blue muggle pen.

"Focus!" came a hiss, startling him from his spaced out thoughts.

He absent-mindedly took the flask and down the lemony mixture, his thoughts drifting to identify the other flavor. However, as soon as he had spaced out once more, a jolt of warmth enveloped his tired joints and boosted his wandering attention span.

"Better now?" she probed, folding her arms in impatience.

He flashed her a quick smile. "Let's do this," he said confidently. "Just another battle, right?"

They shared a quick look, both knowing that they could not linger any longer than the precious minute or two they had already wasted before parting their ways. Harry held his wand loosely in his hand, scanning the fight that had broken out just a quarter-hour ago before his eyes flickered to a welcome sight. No matter how hard he tried, being in the midst of battle was where he performed best.

His mouth curved upwards in an echo of a smile as he dove into the fight once more, a barrage of curses shooting from his wand. The whirlwind of magic struck down Death Eaters with eerie precision, leaving only a whisper of one last spell and the images of a green-eyed bringer of death in its wake.

Further away, the doors that led into Hogwarts burst open for a brief moment before slamming shut, only allowing one figure to exit and none to enter. To say that she attracted attention would be a lie, for she slipped onto the fields with the unnoticed ease that betrayed her spying nature. Instead, only the hollow thud of permanently bound Death Eaters marked her progress towards a lone fighter she had her sights set upon.

Adrenaline coursed through her body, as she was erected a quick shield about her person, desperately cursing the gods for not thinking to change out of her phoenix gown. Despite the strength of the material, the outfit was one of the last she'd voluntarily choose to don for a full-blown battle.

Pausing momentarily, Hermione muttering a soft _Diffindo_ and slit the sides of the gown, partly relieved to see that she could voluntarily tear the material. Only a several hundred meters were left between her and her target, but already the Death Eaters had noticed her presence.

Glaring around at the misplaced beams of multi-hued light, the witch swayed backwards, narrowly avoiding a particularly nasty jet of black magic. Not quite adjusted to the noisy sounds of magical battle, she bit her lip in sheer frustration.

"_Coeire!"_ she shouted, jerking her wand in the rough shape of trefoil. The mixture of Welsh and English spells had been one of her earlier discoveries, unearthed from a pile of dusty manuscripts at the WWIA library.

However, instead of charging the spell more in hopes of permanently freezing her opponents that had been unlucky enough to be within twenty feet of her casting, the witch broke off the spell.

The distanced freezing charm would wear off in a precious few seconds, so she grimly hiked up her skirts and sprinted forward, calling upon the help of the earth element to soften the harsh jarring of her wounds that every step brought.

At first nothing happened, and Hermione shot forward desperately, trying to ignore the sharp protests of her muscles. There was only several seconds later that the earth finally seemed to give in, absorbing the force of her steps.

"_Crucio,_" incanted a voice, dangerously close to her left side.

The witch ducked down desperately to avoid the sickly beam of malevolent red and quickly lost her balance. The still-dewy grass softened her fall, however, and she forced her body to smooth itself out, executing a perfect fall that brought her past several spells and launched her forward onto her feet.

Luck was fleeting though, and a searing hot feeling of pain streaked across her chest as a point-blank curse managed to weave its way past her faltering shield. Desperate to stop the tormenting magical fire that ripped across her upper torso, but knowing she could not afford to lower her guard any further, Hermione made a rash decision that betrayed her Gryffindor qualities.

With a quick burst of speed that sent her lungs on a whirlwind tour of extreme stress, the girl once known for her rational thinking and cautious planning dove headfirst into the mass of black robes that surrounded her target.

"_Stupefy!_" she screamed, jabbing her wand forward.

One shocked Death Eater, half-turned in her direction, fell backwards. Normally, she would have unmasked the enemy, tagging them so they could be found later, but there was no planning, no procedure on her mind, just the simple need to get to _him_ and get out of this alive.

Perhaps it was a simple rash decision that caught them by surprise, but in any case, it was enough. Within a few seconds of her initial assault, the remaining three were lying prone on the grassy earth.

"You came," the silver-eyed wizard said unnecessarily.

"Of course," she muttered irritably, holding off the various comments she would have preferred to say. It would seem rather strange, even stranger than their current predicament, to see the Defense teacher bantering with the son of a known Death Eater.

"Potter is holding his own," he commented as they unconsciously slipped into a basic Auror formation with Hermione covering Draco's weaker left and part of his back as he covered hers.

"He is an Auror, no?" she asked, keeping up her guise as she waved her waved over the chest wound she had received moments ago. "Should I be thinking otherwise, _signore_?"

Behind her immaculate façade of distressed confusion, the witch nearly resisted the urge to grin, despite the grim circumstances. The blonde's face was screwed up in a strange combination of annoyance and weariness.

"Where to next?" she asked. "There are no fighters left here. Are the rest not lying elsewhere, nearer to the lake?"

"It is strange, Bellezza," he said testily. "The Dark Lord wishes to do more than test the defenses and cripple our army. He wishes to occupy the castle, and yet only places a score of his minions here…"

"Reinforcements then?" she suggested, allowing her _Anakalpsi_ senses take over her left eye.

She frowned, blinking several times to allow her eyes adjust to the split levels of sensory. The landscape was dotted with no more than Hogwarts' usual gold protective runes, although several were little more than smoldering ruins. Nowhere could she sense any form of magical concealment or additional Dark forces.

"No magical creatures either," murmured Draco. "_She_ did her job well."

The dark-haired witch did not miss the emphasis in his voice, nor the veiled sense of congratulations he had tried to convey to her in a scant five words. "Contracts with the devil are meant to be broken, _signore_," she reminded him, tracing her wand on the ground.

He made no comment, but instead watched her motions. They were silent for a few moments as her wand tip glowed a dull gold hue as it followed her direction. Soon, the residue of her magic had left a glittering trail in the grass.

Draco's eyebrows rose as he recognized the runes she was retracing. "Protection?" he queried. "Don't you prefer to save your strength for the fight, rather than precautions that they have already broken?"

She smiled, knowing that the Slytherin's forte lay in the realm of dueling and the art of political engagement and not wards. "The power is still here, _signore_, and I am simply reawakening the same essence imbued into the security web by the Founders," she replied, watching in satisfaction as the runes swiftly regained their golden color and linked up with their companions to reassemble the wards.

"What of the battle?" he asked, impatient once more. "Now that the Death Eaters cannot Apparate out and whatnot, how are we going to overcome them?"

"Our business no longer lies with those at the front lines," she said softly.

It was true she hated the blinding speed, the unpredictability of battle, and avoided most direct confrontations. It was why she had chosen to join the force of elite agents that devoted their time to undercover missions instead of masquerading as high-ranking Aurors.

Why did she feel so guilty _now_?

The silver-eyed young man tensed immediately. "What do you mean, no longer?" he hissed, suddenly exuding waves of anger.

"We-," she began.

"There is no _we!_" he roared, incensed that she should try to keep him from fighting. "_I_ am fighting aside whomever I wish! If it is the bloody Boy-Who-Lived that ends up leading the side I have pledged my honor to, then so be it!"

"You don't understand!" she tried in desperation. "There's no time to waste. I can't tell-"

"Find time!" Draco retorted, turning sharply on his heel. "I go to fight, no matter how much you Gryffindors feel my pledge of honor is worth."

"Is this what it's about?" she demanded, hurrying to face him. "Honor? I have given my honor for another's life, another's sanity, another's safety. There is no honor in abandoning the fight when there is other work to be done. There may be no glory, but there are lives that hang in the balance!"

"Damn all of you that think glory is what all men seek!" he raged, stopping suddenly, nearly blinded by the pent up frustration and anger. "I fight to keep my oath of honor, the honor of the Malfoy name, the Black name!"

"But the plan-," she appealed, trying a different tactic.

"Yes, what about the plan? The oh-so-elusive plan that only _you_ know about," he challenged.

"I cannot-,"

"Oh, my," he drawled sarcastically. "You can't what? You can't be bothered to tell me what you're up to? You can't be persuaded to let _Potter_ in either? You can't tell us why you only showed us each one way to wandless magic? You can't explain why you're keeping information we are entitled to, away from us?"

Hermione drew in a shaky breath as each of his accusations found their mark deep in her heart. She closed her eyes momentarily. He was right – she was hiding so much from them. But she couldn't afford to unload her secrets, her tactics, her thoughts for fear that they would end up in the wrong hands.

"Please, _signore_," she said tiredly. "Trust me for now. We shall go to the lake, to fight if we must. My plan, however, shall remain mine for now."

It wasn't much of a compromise, but both were weary and the unspoken agreement set them moving towards the distant sounds of battle by the lake. However, even though they had reached a equilibrium point, there was no doubt in either of their minds that it was temporary. Their fight would be something they would not forget easily.

**By the Lake**

Harry pushed away a lock of unruly hair, sweat beading upon his brow. All around him there were men and women exchanging fierce curses with more and more falling. The Dark Lord's forces were not many, but unlike most of his raids earlier that season, his fighters were seasoned and not entirely consisting of his newest recruits.

Voldemort himself had not come though, and that much was lucky. The Boy-Who-Lived was already busy enough, and he suspected that the Auror reinforcements that were supposed to follow the initial dispatch he had been a part of were not coming.

A stray spell glanced off of the thick armor he wore, and his eyes narrowed. A scorch mark appeared on the burnished hide, signifying that the Death Eaters were upping the intensity of their spells. Launching a barrage of curses back at the other side, the young man smiled grimly as they shrunk back a little.

Another sharp pain suddenly erupted at his left elbow, and he whirled around to see Bellatrix looking nonchalantly at the tip of her wand.

"Ooh, did that hurt the baby Harry?" she cooed, her lips curved in a demented smile.

He ground his teeth and mentally expanded his mind to search for Ron's presence. The ginger-haired wizard wasn't very far from him, and a simple mental probe got the strategist looking over at the Chosen One's predicament.

The raven-haired young man chanced a quick glance over where he thought Ron was, training his wand on the unmoving Bellatrix. The youngest Weasley son gave a quick nod and ran off to contact someone else as he prepared to take Harry's position as the leader of their forces.

"_Serpensortia!_" he shouted suddenly, drawing his wand in a tight coiling gesture, aiming the tip at Bellatrix's feet.

"_Attack her, poissson her, ssshe isss at your mercy,"_ he commanded in Parseltongue.

The large cobra he had Conjured struck like lightning, its gleaming white fangs imbedding themselves deep in her foot. She yelped in pain, fumbling slightly as she tried to angle her wand as to Banish the snake without banishing a part of her body.

Three years of fighting Death Eaters had been more than an eye-opener for Harry. Years ago, he would not have struck at Bellatrix, but now he did, knowing well that there was no justice during a duel with a Death Eater such as her.

"_Sectumsempra!_" he bellowed, bringing to life a spell he had not used since his sixth year. "_Iugulo_!"

However, only the first spell found its mark, as she had just managed to rid herself of the cobra before its impact. The second Obliterating Curse passed harmlessly over her shoulder.

"Little Harry plays dirty now, doesn't he?" she gasped, obviously in pain. "Never mind, let Aunt Bellatrix show you how grownups do it. _Crucio!_"

Harry ignored her taunting, and unsheathed the Sword of Gryffindor from its place at his side as he bent under the beam of red. "Why don't we settle this in a more interesting way?" he asked, twisting his wrist as he tested the blade in the air. "How about, say, some old-fashioned swordplay?"

She grinned seductively, an expression that would have had men tripping to serve her before Azkaban had stripped her of her beauty. "I do _so_ love challenges," she whispered, waving her wand in a circle as black-hilted sword with a wicked blade of curved gray metal appeared in her hands.

The deranged witch was the first to attack, lunging forward with remarkable speed. Harry quickly brought his own sword up in the defensive position. As the Gryffindor and Lestrange family swords clashed, a bolt of power ran up each respective blade. He grinned a little as he parried her doubled arc swing. There was no doubt in his mind that this little duel would attract a lot of attention.

But still, he bided his time as she rained blows upon his form, precious few slipping past his guard. He waited patiently, ignoring the ringing pain that shot through his arms with every blow his sword absorbed. Sirius' cousin was as strong as she was ruthless, each of her strikes fully charged.

Finally, he saw a small weakness as her hand faltered as she brought her sword back to strike and he lunged forward without a warning. One flicker of crimson later, he had knocked her sword aside, darted past her defenses and scored a blow before flickering out. The only thing his blade left in its wake was a deep gash, already bleeding profusely, in the center of her Dark Mark.

"For Alice," he declared with a glint of dark amusement.

She shrieked in anger and pain, launching another flurry of blows at him with passionate hate backing each slice of her curved blade. However, the dark-haired young man just smiled mysteriously as he sidestepped her initial attack and swung his blade up to meet hers.

In a flash, he pushed his own blade down the curved edge of hers, his eyes glinting with dark fire as bolts of energy erupted with the prolonged contact. She realized what the wizard was trying to do though, and wrenched her sword to the side. The reaction came a moment too late, for he jerked to the side with her and back again, twisting the hilt as he went.

Bellatrix hissed in pain as the Sword of Gryffindor bit deep into her hand, dropping her weapon as the metal forced bolts of pain through her arm. Again, though, the blade darted away as soon as she was disarmed.

"Frank," he said quietly, eyes hardening as he thought of Neville's parents.

With a cry of rage, she flung herself at him once more. The consuming fire of madness had begun to deteriorate her skills, and he blocked each wobbly strike easily. With each clang of their swords, he advanced, his blade singing through the air as he called on the strength he had so wisely saved.

A flicker of darkened triumph flickered within his emerald green eyes as Bellatrix's guard weakened further. But still, even as he saw one, two, even three chances, the young man simply hefted his sword up for another strike, clashing metal ringing in his ears. There was no mercy, no hint of Gryffindor leniency so many were fooled into thinking the students of the house of the lion possessed. There was only cold resolve shining through his predator-like movements.

Finally a hiss of metal sounded out across the field as he slid his blade down the length of hers once more until the two sword fighters were locked at the hilt. For an instant, the cruelest of the Black sisters held her own, but a moment later, her treacherous arms buckled under the strain.

There was no time for her to get up this time, and as the dark-haired Death Eater struggled to regain any footing, the deadly point of his unforgiving sword rested threateningly at her neck. There was no customary 'Do you yield,' nor was there any moment of weakness on either of their parts.

Harry had long dreamed of the moment Sirius' death would finally be avenged. He had played it over and over, imagining how he would strike her down in various fashions, forcing her to regret her sins before striking the blow that would end her life. But none of it seemed appropriate now, with the moments of glory and vengeance so pointless and old.

There was nothing to say – she was one of them, and she knew death well. "For Sirius, Bella, for him," he said fiercely.

Her mouth curved in a sneer as he delivered the last blow, sensing no honor in what he had done. Only a feeling of completion simmering in his blood, the sense that Lestrange's death was the end of the old and the beginning of something greater, more fearsome, and foreign.

Then, as if commanded, he cast a glance over his shoulder to see an arrow cutting its way towards him. He smiled, knowing whom the caster was and watched unmoving as it found its mark in Bellatrix's treacherous heart. Another's desire for revenge had been quelled as well as his own.

**Minutes Ago – By the Walls of Hogwarts**

"Hurry, please, _signore_," she said, breaking out into a jog. "It you insist of battling, we must make haste."

Draco shot her a particularly annoyed glare, but quickened his pace nonetheless. The distance between them and the raging battle by the lake was not little, but their need to hurry had resulted in the record-setting speed they were currently taking.

"Do suggest that we're going too slow? At this rate?" he ground out, Hermione's alter-ego's personality obviously not being too compatible with his edginess.

"We're almost there," she commented a bit breathlessly, ignoring his remark. "Shall we split up or go in as a team? The battle will be unpredictable, no?"

"We'll decide when we actually figure out what's going on," he snapped.

The Defense professor managed to sigh dramatically without disrupting her breathing pattern as they sprinted. Before she could say anything in response, Draco bellowed "_Stupefy!_" pointing his wand towards a figure next to the woods.

"A sharpshooter?" she asked as they neared the fallen figure.

Draco reached the prone man first, with the dark-haired professor trailing him closely. A quiver of arrows was strapped to their prisoner's back and in his frozen hands, he held a large longbow.

"Definitely," he muttered, his fingers already nimbly unfastening the catch that held the quiver. "Catch!"

She reflexive reached out and caught the flying bundle of leather, righting it in one swift move. The arrows within were of strangely, almost absurdly high quality. Each had been obviously hand-crafted from and tipped with razor-sharp diamond. The shaft was perfectly straight and smooth, and the feathers at the end were the unmistakable greenish-black of an Augurey.

"Ah, so our sneaky friend here is someone with means," she commented softly.

The blonde wizard pried the longbow from the man's grip and tossed it to her as well before unmasking the Death Eater. "Dolohov had a son?" he asked no one in particular. "Interesting. Must be a new recruit though, seeing as he's not with the rest of them."

The young woman ignored his musings as she examined the bow. It was just as ludicrously expensive, fashioned entirely by hand from expensive holly wood. The string was taut, and its silvery appearance betrayed the fact that despite being owned by a Dark wizard, a unicorn's tail hair had been used in its making.

Placing her hand around the golden-bronze grip, she nocked an arrow and pulled back the string. "How about we take over his duty?" she asked, her voice warm with humor. "We would not want his job going untended."

As she sighted down the shaft, an idea struck her. A grin spread across her lips as she whispered "_Incendio!_" before releasing the arrow.

"Don't get too carried away, Bellezza," Draco drawled.

She watched, almost mesmerized, as the flickering messenger of death sped in a wide arc, plummeting to the earth before transforming a black-robed Death Eater into a mass of flame and fury.

"I suppose you have your own toys to play with too, _signore_," she replied, readying another arrow. "Else you would have left me long ago. _Incendio!_"

As she let another lit arrow fly, she turned her head to see the Slytherin pulling a small object from his robe pockets. "A Bifidus crystal," he said in response to her raised eyebrow. "Highly borderline illegal, for it can absorb a high-powered spell and send off several slightly lower power spells at the same time. Wonderful energizing properties come with the package as well."

Her mouth quirked upwards as she smirked mischievously, nocking another arrow as she spoke, "Let's show them how this is done."

However, as she looked for another target, a glimmer of crimson light laced with gold caught her attention. It was Harry's duel with a dark haired woman – Bellatrix. She grinned darkly as Harry easily hammered down her guard and brought her down in an instant.

It was too far for her to hear, but her keen vision easily detected her best friend's mouth forming words. It wasn't hard to imagine what he was saying, for she had experienced the rage the green-eyed wizard had thrown about more than once. Sirius had not been her idol, but she knew that his death had caused her friend to change in more ways than emotionally.

Narrowing her eyes, she knew that her next target would not serve as a bringer of death. As she let the arrow fly, there was nothing in her heart except hatred.

No, she would not be the one to kill the murderous woman. Harry would beat her to it, and she graciously acquiesced. It was his moment of vengeance and his time to finally rid his memories of the oldest and cruelest Black sister.

The three drastically different sisters had always been a topic of curiosity, as most of the "facts" society knew mostly stemmed from rumors. Andromeda was somewhat of a scandal and yet a heroine for openly defying one of the oldest Pureblooded families she once called kin to pursue _that_ Muggle.

Narcissa, the flower and embodiment of beauty, was cold but well-mannered and versed in the proper arts that had netted her Lucius Malfoy so soon after graduating from Hogwarts. She ran her household with a strict hand, accompanied her husband to the appropriate social events, and became the model wife.

Bellatrix was always the darkest of them all, plunging into the Dark Arts at the tender age of thirteen. Many feared her name, and even more others feared her talents. She was loyal only to her master, the Dark Lord, and called none her companion. Wed to Rodolphus, rumors hinted at the match being more of a convenience rather than a political match, for both wife and husband were known to be servants of Voldemort.

Andromeda had wanted love, Narcissa longed for wealth, and Bellatrix had lusted for power. Each one had made their imprint upon the wizarding world, but each one had begun to fade from their lives. Andromeda had vanished years ago, only reappearing three times, once to send off her Auror daughter Tonks to Hogwarts, once to see her graduate, and the last to see her off to the Auror training program.

Narcissa too had faded somewhat, although her name had done anything but. Lucius' incarceration had greatly befouled the Malfoy house, and she too retreated into the dark confines of the manor. Some whispered of her madness, attributing it to Lucius' death in Azkaban. Others muttered of her elusive son, insisting that young Draco had forsaken his birthright and run away.

The youngest Andromeda had been the first, then Narcissa, the middle. Now it was Bellatrix who would vanish in the most complete way possible. The dark-haired professor smiled sadly as Harry delivered the final blow, her arrow impacting the dreadful woman's heart a moment later.

"We are all forgotten," she whispered. "We are all forgotten when the time comes."

**Author's Notes**

_An extra long chapter for those of you who have been enjoying the pleasures of Spring Break! I hope you all enjoyed the action I packed in here. There'll be more to come as we spiral closer to the battle that will end all battles. -_

_As you see, Draco isn't too great with Katelyn. Actually, she gets on his nerves - a lot. This shows exactly how drastic several changes of character can be. Hermione is not truly Hermione when Katelyn's spirit is called up to properly modify her whole person. In some ways, this is why Hermione is such a complex character – she lives two lives and therefore must choose different paths for each one. Even though there are two spirits in one body, each spirit is destined to travel different roads._

_I hope you all are properly satisfied, but if you have any questions at all about the story or any developments, feel free to include them in your reviews. Happy Early Easter and Spring Break!_

_gAITTAbella – Confusing? Terribly sorry :frowns: about that, but I often make scene changes because you can't always dwell too much in one place when your story is centered on different characters. I hope you enjoyed this chapter despite my scene changes._

_Eowyn89 – Romance? Erm:cough, heh, well.. They're sort of, well, battling. I suppose… No no no! Argh, I'm not quite sure how to meet with this demand without revealing too much.. Eh, you'll see. :wink:_

_autumnxrain – Urgh, don't remind me of high school. We turned in our course selection sheets last week and I'm taking Honors Biology, Honors English, Honors Debate & Argumentation, and Honors Geometry. Thank god there's no such thing as Honors Latin II, Latin II is supposed to be hard enough. On top of all that, my parents want me to be taking Honors Algebra II on the side outside of school so I can test of taking it _in _school and skip to Calculus or PreCalculus.. I forget which one comes after it._

_AriesFireGirl – Too magic? Is there anything that confuses you in particular? I'm sorry if my story bores you. :frowns: I'll try to be, er, clearer I guess. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter though._

_rachhulkupyoursdotcom – Er, yay?_

_fishertowers - :confused: Who cares if I thought up of the story before the release of HBP:blinks: Also, there's nothing wrong with Ginny, she's just a rather preoccupied girl. She's not really easily flustered, but her portrayal shows that even she can be caught off guard. Also, she's worried because she saw what happened to Hermione when she traveled through the realms and is worried that the "unknown branch of risky realm-traveling" transportation Harry, Hermione, and Draco used to get to Hogwarts is the same thing._


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